


One for the Money- Two for the Doughnuts

by Squishy91



Category: Stephanie Plum - Janet Evanovich, Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Abuse of baked goods, Alive Hale Family, All the background characters are based on other fandoms, Based on Stephanie Plum, Bounty Hunter!Stiles, Death via werewolf, Detective!Derek, M/M, People die here ok? No spoilers but there’s death and dying, Play spot the character, Spiders need a tag, Swearing, creepy crawlies, slight gore
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-07-14
Updated: 2019-11-15
Packaged: 2020-06-28 04:28:06
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 10
Words: 51,317
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19804759
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Squishy91/pseuds/Squishy91
Summary: The best bounty hunter working for Werewolf Bonds office is Allison Argent: the woman wears leather, kicks ass and takes names all while looking like a photoshopped dominatrix barbie.Then there’s Stiles who should probably stop buying doughnuts by the box.





	1. It’s not temporary insanity

**Author's Note:**

> Heavily based on the adventures of Stephanie Plum a totally awesome bounty hunter. 
> 
> Thanks to my awesome Beta’s! Noonecares and Rissa!

Although he enjoyed rolling around with naked guys Stiles was vehemently thinking there was a time and a place for everything. Being stuck under two hundred kilos of lard while his dad laughed his arse off wasn’t Stiles’ usual naked guy fantasy. Martin Jones was defective in the frontal lobe area and had decided his best course of action while his hands and ankles were cuffed was to launch sideways out of the car when Stiles went to pull him out.

Unfortunately, this led to Jones doing a naked beached whale impersonation on top of him in the parking lot beside the station, while a doorway full of policemen watched and laughed. 

Bastards.

Stiles Stilinski worked as a Fugitive Apprehension Agent for Werewolf Bond Service. A bounty hunter. Jones was on his Most Wanted list for credit card fraud, then forgetting his court date thus becoming a Failure to Appear. Most FTA’s weren’t that smart and Jones fit the bill to a T.

He’d been in his apartment drinking beer, eating cheese dipped cheese sticks, and had come to the door naked when Stiles had arrived with a bullshit excuse about rescheduling a court date, until a light went on in the otherwise empty brain and the large man had decided he didn’t want to go to jail. Go figure people didn't like the thought of going to jail. So, Stiles had whipped out his handy dandy slightly illegal stun gun and knocked Jones out. 

Stiles is 5’7” and sixty-five kg of slim athletic build sarcastic twenty-five-year-old with enough muscle to open a Nutella jar. In a fight against the massive Mr. Jones, the stun gun, and a turned back were his favourite equalisers; unfortunately for Stiles, he’d used all of his strength dragging jones’ naked arse into the back seat of his new second-hand car where he had cuffed his wrists and ankles for good measure. Now he was stuck under the man and glaring at his father. 

“A little help guys?” He glowered as his father, Sheriff John Stilinski, ambled over grinning and pushed Jones off with his foot before giving Stiles a hand up.

“It’s sad I’m not going to have to embellish this story when I tell Melissa you know.” His dad grinned before cutting his eyes to Jones. “Need some help?”

“That would be nice, I’m still remembering how to breathe.” 

He watched as the new guy, Parrish, in his shiny pressed uniform, came out and hauled Jones inside to the Docket lieutenant who would book him and give Stiles a body receipt. Which he needed to get paid. Which he needed to eat. 

Getting paid was the dream. Checking his Batman watch Stiles decided he had protected the streets enough for the day; He’d head to the office, exchange Jones’ body receipt for a payday, and get himself some beer before heading home. 

—-

Isaac Lahey sat at the front counter of Werewolf Bonds; he looked up, smiling a polite service smile which melted when he saw Stiles come through the door. Isaac was taller and skinnier and yet somehow never appeared as scrawny. Maybe it was the navy scarf he wore wrapped around his neck. Even in the middle of summer.

“I’ve got a couple FTAs here for you. All too small change for Ally.” He handed two folders over to Stiles to sign as he took the body receipt and processed the payout straight to his account. Oh, sweet technology. 

“There’s Gary Williams, he’s got done on shoplifting again and old Mrs. Bezzler.”

“Mrs. Bezzler?” Stiles questioned as he flicked through the file. “She’s like a hundred what did she do?”

“Eighty-nine and grand theft auto.” Isaac finished the documents and looked up to see Stiles staring at him expectantly. He sighed. “She walked up to a police car and took it for a test drive. Without telling anyone. Claims she was confused.”

Now Stiles tried to be a good law-abiding son with his father being the sheriff but damn he was impressed. He hoped to be that cool when he was that old. 

“Where’s Scotty?” He looked around towards the filing cabinets behind Isaacs’s desk, but the second chair was empty. 

“Organising inventory. Should be done by now.” Isaac changed quickly from his smooth professional demeanour to world yodelling champion in seconds as he yelled. “SCOTTY GET YOUR ARSE HERE!” 

“Jesus Christ!” A head popped out of the door at the back of the office. “What the hell do I pay you people for? This is a distinguished business not some high school locker room!”

The door slammed shut and that, Stiles thought to himself, that was as much of his boss, Peter Hale, that he wanted to see today. 

Scotty strolled out of the inventory room grinning. “Do you think he was on a business call or a ‘business call’?”

Peter’s supposed phone sex life was the office's idea of fun conversation. 

“I saw the last phone bill,” Isaac mentioned idly checking his nails. “He made a call to the pet shop before and after his ‘business’ call.” 

They all stopped to ponder the implications for a moment before shuddering. 

“Nope, I’m out. Scotty, wanna ride along?”

“Hell yeah; I hate the alphabet now.”

As they headed to the door Isaac called them back. 

“Hold up, Stiles.” He bit his lip before retrieving another folder. “Allison’s bringing back some guy who did a runner and won’t be in town for another week or so and this one won’t sit. It's high pay day.” 

Stiles opened the folder and frowned down at the picture of a rosy cheeked blonde-haired boy cuddling close to a tan man who looked to be his father. Confused, he flipped the paperwork. Find and retrieve missing child, abducted by father Danny Moore. Breaking the child custody agreement held by the mother Sam Moore. 

“I don’t do these. Hell, I didn’t think Peter did these.” Stiles put the folder back on the desk. “I’m a shitty bounty hunter! I’m not qualified to catch kids.”

Isaac pushed the folder towards Stiles. “Before you say no just keep the file and think on it, okay? At worst you’ll do some legwork before Allison gets back and she’ll cut you in. And at best you find him and get him safely to his mother, yeah?”

Stiles took the folder and glared at it as he got into his car. The pay off, even a percentage, would pay off his car easily. But he couldn’t accept this. As much as he wanted the boy back with his mother something bad might happen and Stiles didn’t want to be the one to mess up this time. 

The car pulled away as Stiles followed a familiar route to Gary’s house. 

As they pulled to a stop in front of the two-story house, Scotty turned down the music blaring from the crappy stereo to stare at the weeds pretending to be a garden edging the house, and the plastic Santa humping the chimney three months early. Stiles stared at the house as Scotty watched him patiently.

“You know what?” Stiles grinned at Scotty. “I’m not feeling it. Bet he’s not even home. We should go try out that new ice cream place next to the bookshop.”

Scotty nodded seriously in response. “A good detective would even check what new comics are out.” 

They grinned at each other as the car took off down the road. It was times like these that Stiles knew he couldn’t take a normal job again. Yeah, he had to hide in pouring rain outside a strip club to grab a cross dressing FTA at 2am but days like these made up for it with the no set office hours and awesome workmates.

They had gotten an ice cream cone each and were heading out when a woman caught Stiles’ eye, and he couldn’t help staring, she was a much older woman her hair short and spiked up coloured yellow and black like a freaking bumblebee and she was wearing close fitting black leather outfit. She looked familiar to Stiles but he couldn’t place her. 

“Oh my god that woman’s like a hundred what’s she doing wearing that much leather?” Scotty had stopped with his ice cream halfway to his open mouth to stare at the woman. 

“Oh crap; that’s Hazel!” the realisation hit Stiles like a baseball bat to the face. He could be forgiven for not recognising the recently widowed Mrs. Bezzler who the last time Stiles had seen her wore little old lady dresses, tennis shoes and had her grey hair curled atop her head.

Stiles slipped through the crowded ice cream shop to stand behind Mrs. Bezzler. 

“Excuse me? Mrs. Bezzler?” He kept his voice polite and curious. “Are you Mrs. Bezzler?”

“Not since my husband croaked.” She turned to Stiles and unashamedly checked him out head to toe making the younger man swallow his tongue. “But for you honey, just call me Hazel.”

Stiles stuttered to a stop briefly as he realised she was hitting on him. “Mrs. Bezzler-“

“Hazel," she interrupted firmly.

“Uh, Hazel. I represent your bondsman Mr. Hale. You missed your court date and need to reschedule.” He smiled pleasantly at her hoping she wouldn’t take it as flirting. “If you come with me, we can get you a new court date.”

“Of course, dear,” She gripped Stiles’ arm and followed him out to the car Scotty trailing behind as she nattered on cheerily. “Now you see as you get to my age things like court dates seem to lose importance. I don’t think I’ll be going, but you’re so sweet to bring an old lady out of the crowded shop.”

Stiles hadn’t been listening the best to what Mrs. Bezzler was saying and he regretted it as she snatched his keys out of his hand, jumped into his car and sped away while the two able bodied young men stood staring open mouthed.

“My car.”

“Dude, your car.”

——

The Stilinski’s and McCalls’ have been neighbours for as long as Scotty and Stiles could remember. 

Both sets of parents had moved in as newlyweds and before the boys were ten both had lost a parent. Stiles and Scotty grew up as best friends, Stiles ready to jump from the roof to see if he could suddenly fly and Scotty jumping with him because they were best friends. Both ended up with broken arms and had been the first to sign each other’s casts. That was their entire friendship; Stiles the misguided brains and Scotty the blind faith. 

In the fifteen years since John and Melissa became single parents, they removed the separating fence and put an archway in the separating wall; the co-parenting while on opposite shifts and the family dinners together every night they were both home. All of that didn’t give it away, it wasn’t until the boys were almost twenty that they realised their parents were dating. 

Now that the boys had moved out, it was the family rule to come home for dinner twice a week. No exceptions. Explaining why they were stuck at the ice cream place without a car made the best friends regress to teenagers. No eye contact and lots of muttering at their feet.

Stiles spotted his car sitting at the curb outside his father’s house a note on the driver’s side window in lipstick read: Honey you need a better car try stealing one! Xx 

The spare change was still there but the handcuffs Stiles had left on the passenger seat were gone. He didn’t want to think about it.

“Ugh you are so dead if she finds you alone man.” Scotty had no sympathy as he followed his mother into the house, Stiles grabbing the keys from the ignition and trailing after them while questioning his life choices. 

The early dinner was quiet, as it was just the three of them. After dinner Melissa pulled Stiles aside to sit in the kitchen as Scotty turned on the TV.

“Stiles, why are you refusing the Moore case?” Melissa stirred a cup of tea eye staring intently at Stiles who fiddled with his.

“I’m a pretty shi- bad bounty hunter,” he corrected himself quickly. “I think that kid deserves someone competent like Allison to get him back to his mother.”

“Hmm…” Melissa. “Tell me Stiles is she that good? Will she bring that boy back to his mother?” 

“Yes! Of course!”

“Then find him first.”

“Wait what?” Stiles gaped at Melissa but she was serious. 

“Find that little boy Stiles. Find his father and find out why they thought they could get away,” Melissa exhaled clenching her tea cup in both hands. “What I’m going to tell you is one of those secrets everyone knows but no one talks about.” 

“That boy and his father would come into the hospital at least once a month with broken bones or cuts that needed stitching. Everyone knew Danny’s wife Sam smacked him and their boy around and we all knew Danny only stayed to take the worst of it until a year ago,” she shook her head sadly. “Danny called the police and when the ambulance got there, he was half dead and Jackson had two broken ribs. Danny filed for divorce the next day but the custody agreement meant the mother, Sam, got Jackson every weekend.” 

Stiles didn’t know what to say. He’d gone to high school with Danny but they hadn’t been close and had lost contact other than the quick hello when passing each other in the shops. He felt sudden guilt, like he should have known and helped but couldn’t have had any way of knowing. 

“I’ll do it.”

——

Why had he decided he could do this? Why did he think he could help?

Stile wasn’t sure what he was expecting, maybe for Danny to answer the door and invite him in but standing at the back door to someone else’s house about to throw a rock through their window to snoop around wasn’t it. Nope his day didn’t usually involve good old B&E. Ok well most days. Maybe only twice a month. 

Honestly Stiles had hoped Danny was hiding inside his house with his son and this would all blow over quickly. He had no idea what he was doing. He still had no idea as he threw the rock at the window in the back door. No idea as he pulled on gloves and went inside, well slight ideas but c’mon TV. A quick run through showed an empty house, nothing interesting, nothing disturbed and nothing out of the ordinary. The only room left was the basement. Stiles send a quick prayer to whoever was listening that he wasn’t about to stumble upon dead bodies and crept down the stairs using his phones flashlight.

He almost dropped his phone in fright as it started ringing. 

“God Dammit Scotty! You gave me a heart attack!”

“Stiles, a limo just pulled up and someone went into the house.” Scott was on lookout duty in the parked car across the street. 

“Shit.”

“Exactly Mr. Stilinski.” A voice from the top of the stairs called. “If you would follow me.”

The man at the top of the stairs was wearing a suit that badly hid the gun at his hip. Stiles didn’t see any other real option than to follow him. 

“Who are you?” the man led the lacking bounty hunter to the open front door where he pulled out a key and locked the door behind them. 

“Mr. Greenburg wants to speak to you.” The goon led a petrified Stiles up to one of those short black limos at the curb. The window rolled down halfway so he couldn’t see who was in the shadowed interior. 

“Hello Mr. Stilinski, I see you have entered my property without my permission. What do you have to say for yourself?”

“This is Danny’s house. I was asked to look for him, I was just checking up on things.”

“As noble as that sounds you broke into my property.” The voice drawled sending shivers up Stiles’ spine. “And I do not tolerate people messing with what is mine.”

“You don’t scare me,” Stiles was sure anyone listening could see through the bravado but he was determined not to look like a chicken shit bounty hunter. Go male ego!

“We will see Mr. Stilinski, We will see.” 

The window went up and Stiles was left staring at his own reflection as the goon got in the car and the limo drove away. He stood there for another minute before crossing the road and jumping into his car and staring blankly at Scott. 

“I need Cake.”

——

Half an hour passed to find Stiles, Scott and Isaac were staring at three empty bakery boxes and questioning their decisions. 

“I’ve got powdered sugar on my scarf.” Isaac batted at the fabric gently to clean it. 

“I’ve got a lunch date with mum in half an hour.” Scott looked to the empty doughnut box which he was sure he only ate half of. Probably.

“I think I pissed off a mobster.” 

The other two turned to stare at the third before finally breaking into sniggering laughter. 

“It’s not that funny!” Stiles threw his hands in the air. Peter stuck his head out of his office to glare at them. “This is my life and it sucks! I need a distraction!”

“Why don’t you distract yourself by doing your job?” Peter was leaning in his now open doorway glaring at his employees. “You can always go after Williams.”

“Fine,” Stiles glared back but the idea was actually appealing as he might get a chance to hit Frankie with the stun gun. “But I need some cuffs.”

“What happened to your last pair? Christ, they don’t grow on trees!” 

“Mrs. Bezzler took off with them.” 

Peter stared at stiles for a moment before shaking his head. “Bloody hell Stilinski that woman is like a hundred! No. nope. I’m not having it. I’m pretending you have some sexy girl coming over tonight and you wanna handcuff her to the bed!”

The office door slammed as Scotty went to the inventory room to fetch a pair of cuffs. 

Leaving the office and realising it was getting close to six Stiles decided it was time to call it quits for the day. He firmly decided the order for the perfect dinner for the day he had was beer. Beer and TV. What more could a man want? Maybe a cookie. A big one, except that would mean he would need to go grocery shopping and even he was aware of his shortcomings in the ways of independent adulthood. That’s why going to Dads house twice a week for dinner was more than just family obligation. It was a survival tactic. He slumped on the couch and took a drag of his beer grabbing the TV remote when a rustling sound came from the doorway.

Frowning he looked over but it had stopped. Stiles shook his head; he was getting more and more paranoid these days. The manly bounty hunter thing to do was to check the door. He drank some more beer frowning. Going over to his Boba Fett cookie jar he pulled out the hand gun hidden inside. Cool guys keep their guns in cookie jars ok? And since the last time an FTA got inside his apartment and used his gun against him… yeah, a cookie jar was actually safer. 

Stiles finished his beer in a gulp and chucking it in the bin before creeping up to the door. Taking a deep breath, he peeked through the peep hole. Only to see nothing, there was something over the hole. Dammit. He couldn’t hear any more noise outside the door so he held the gun up and threw the door open hoping to surprise whoever was outside. The hallway was empty; confused the bounty hunter glanced at the peephole cover with gum. Ew. Stiles frowned as he noticed one of those fabric shopping bags tied to the door handle.

Reaching for it and peeking inside he shrieked and dropped the bag. Five brown spotted snakes slithered out. Stiles stumbled back a few steps before raising his gun and shooting at one of the snakes heading to the hallway. He quickly turned and ran leaping up onto the kitchen bench pulling his legs up and getting his phone out of his back pocket. 

Shaking he dialled his dad. 

“Hi Dad: I need a favour,” He started the conversation as soon as his dad picked up voice quickly losing composure. “Can you please call whoever the hell does whatever the hell people do with snakes that shouldn’t be in my apartment!”

There was silence on the other end of the call and the young man knew his father was staring at the phone in disbelief. It was a common occurrence, he was told. 

“Dad?” 

“Stiles,” there was a deep sigh. “Does this have anything to do with the call about gunshots in your apartment building?”

“Um…”

“We’re already heading over. We’ll be there in ten.” The line went dead and Stiles wondered who the “we” would be this time. He knew he was a source of amusement to the local station and his calls usually ended up in a lot of laughing. At him. Shit this one wasn’t looking great. If he wanted to preserve some dignity he'd wait in the hallway and act all casual. Since one of the snakes had decided to hangout in plain sight in front of the door Stiles decided against dignity and stayed put.

Ten minutes later his dad walked in followed by the new deputy and two men in green jumpsuits carrying bags and hooks. They all walked through the open doorway and saw the Sheriff’s son sitting on his kitchen counter in the middle of the apartment waving awkwardly at them. The new deputy, Parrish who Stiles had only met twice now, toed the dead snake on the ground. 

“This sucker’s shot to shit.” He glanced around the empty apartment. Not a slithery bastard in sight. “How many were there?” 

Stiles glanced at the gun on the counter guiltily. “I was surprised and then I ran out of bullets… um five? I think there were five of ‘em. I think one, maybe two, went down the hallway but the others came inside the apartment.” The one that had mocked him front in front of the door had disappeared.

His dad was shaking his head in disbelief. “You know Scott called me last week with an emergency because he got locked out of his apartment, can you imagine Stiles? Having a normal emergency?” his dad motioned the animal control guys down the hall and started poking around the apartment with Parrish. “You gonna help us look son?” 

“Nope.” Stiles popped the ‘p’ sound just like he had in high school. “I’m fine up here where its venomous reptile free.” 

Parrish and his dad disappeared into his bedroom and the apartment was quiet for a moment until there was sudden shouting. 

“FUCK! Fuck! Kill that motherfucker!” his dad’s voice yelled and Parrish answered with gunshots. 

“Fuck.” He dad stomped out of the bedroom and went straight for Stiles’ liqueur cupboard grabbing the bottle of jacks and downing two fingers worth before passing it to Parrish who did the same. “That fucker came out of nowhere.”

The two animal control men walked back into the apartment at that moment and took in the two shocked police officers, the bottle of jack and the big bad bounty hunter hiding on the counter and shook their heads. Not a stellar performance by the local law enforcement. Sheriff Stilinski pointed to the bedroom door and they went for the snakes without a word.

They were still in the same positions staring at the bedroom door when Derek Hale arrived. The plainclothes detective wore black jeans that looked poured on, black leather jacket over a dark grey Henley that would suit a runway model more than the image of a cop and heavy black combat boots. His brown hair was dishevelled and forest green eyes thoroughly assessing the scene in front of him. The jacket hid the badge and gun but Stiles knew they were there. 

An amused smile crossed his lips when he saw Stiles on the counter. “Hiding from something?”

“Someone left snakes on my door handle,” Stiles didn’t know if he should be indignant or to pout so he settled for glaring at Derek.

“So, you let them loose?” Derek’s teeth flashed as his face twisted in repressed mirth. 

“I was surprised.”

Derek snorted a short laugh and glanced back at the dead snake in the still open doorway. “Did you shoot that one?”

“Yes. I ran out of bullets.” 

“How many bullets did you have?”

“One.”

Derek was laughing in a soft almost silent way and Stiles was still glaring at him, refusing to find it cute, when the animal control guys came back. 

“Stinson’s,” the guy with the bag said. “Harmless. Want us to take the dead ones?” 

“Yes!” Stiles didn’t want to touch them. Gross. 

“We got the dead one and two live ones out of the room. I’m afraid your shoes are dead too.” He rustled the bag with a thoughtful frown. “That makes four but you said maybe fiv-“

He was cut off at the sound of a scream from the hallway.

The Sheriff and Parrish nodded to the other cop, following the animal control guys out, his dad giving Stiles a significant look he didn't really understand before leaving him alone with Derek. 

“You can get off the counter now,” Derek held out his hand. Stiles took it and slid down, Derek giving his hand a squeeze before letting go. 

“So, what happened?” 

“There was a noise and I grabbed my gun to have a look but there wasn’t anyone in the hall when I went out,” Stiles flopped onto his couch. “There was a bag on the door handle so I checked it out and snakes fell everywhere! It was crazy!” 

“Your life is crazy,” Derek muttered glaring at the door. 

“What the hell is that supposed to mean?” Stiles face transformed from ‘oh fuck someone set snakes on me’ to ‘don’t fuck with me’ in a speed only Derek inspired. 

“It means you are the only person I know who has someone send them snakes! Who the hell would send you snakes?” Derek was pacing in front of the couch his obvious agitation calming Stiles down slightly. 

“I guess I could write a list.” Stiles chewed on his thumb nail as he thought about who would be on the list. He got off of the couch to pace. 

“A fucking list?” Derek stopped and stared at Stiles in disbelief. “Most cops only have one or two people but you have a list?” 

“It’s been a busy day.” Stiles thought about the new cuffs in his pants and sighed. “Hazel might be on the list, she’s slightly crazy now.”

“Hazel?” Derek stared at Stiles until he elaborated. 

“Nice enough old lady, she’s like a hundred, FTA who briefly stole my car today. Then there’s Jones who I tricked into lock up this morning who has gravel rash on his dong. He got out on a technicality.” Getting arrested an hour before his warrant covered entry into the house. “Then there’s Greenburg and the unfortunate encounter we had. And my ex-wife she’s always out to get me.” 

“Greenburg?” 

He explained about the missing boy he’d been asked to find and his dad’s creepy landlord. 

“Stay away from Greenburg.”

“Why wouldn’t I?” Stiles jumped up to pace. “I don’t want to get whacked!”

Derek grabbed Stiles pushed him against the wall next to the door crashing their lips together in a sudden passionate kiss. Liquid heat coursed through the man heading directly south. His hands reached forward grasping the supple leather of the cop’s jacket. Before he fully knew what was happening; just as he felt himself relax into the bruising press of lips Derek pulled sharply away, opening the door to leave, snapping the panting man out of his daze. 

“Hey you stopped! What the hell was that?” 

“Temporary insanity: you drive me crazy.”

He glanced the shorter man’s mouth before shaking his head and stalking down the hall dramatically disappearing into the elevator.


	2. Can’t Police The Air

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A dozen doughnuts eaten.
> 
> Edited: because consistency isn’t my jam. Apparently.

After a fitful night of tossing and turning Stiles decided he deserved to sleep in. Unfortunately, his mind provided the image of the little blonde-haired boy who needed rescuing. Stupid brain. 

His brain was a traitor he decided. It had kept him up all night with the image of snakes in his sheets and Derek’s tongue against his. The weather outside was miserable with grey storm clouds and the constant light drizzle of rain that would eventually drive everyone insane.

Stiles dragged himself out of bed and through the shower grudgingly. Coming out he dressed in what he liked to think of as his badass hobo outfit. Doc martins and black jeans in case he needed to kick some butt and four different layers on top. He wore a black on black batman shirt because everyone needed a role model on days like this, a sweater, jacket and scarf in deference to the weather and the lack of heating in his car.

For breakfast he drove halfway across beacon hills to a small bakery and bought a dozen doughnuts and a coffee then decided since he was in the neighbourhood he would park across the road from Danny’s house for the hell of it. Halfway through the doughnuts he’d finished his coffee and was getting cold. Another three down and the coffee was making a comeback. 

Locking his car, he walked over to Danny’s neighbours house introduced himself, explained the situation, pressed for information and used the bathroom. Ten minutes later he was back in is car staring at the hot pink post it note sitting in the doughnut box.

Did you like the snakes?

His car had been locked and no windows were broken. Stiles slowly and deliberately ate his remaining three doughnuts before starting his car and driving as fast as he could to the office.

——

Sometimes when Stiles got afraid, he got aggressive. That’s how he lost his virginity, one minute the intimidatingly hot guy he’d know his whole life was flirting with him at the graduation party and the next Stiles had dragged him back to his car. Funnily enough that guy had shipped out with the Army the next week without saying anything and Stiles was married by the end of the month. 

Stiles couldn’t decide if he was being smarter with managing his fear this time. Probably not. 

Probably Gary Williams’ front door swinging open at his touch should have alerted Stiles to this being another not great day. But as it was Stiles was riding a high of fear induced adrenaline.

He just shook his head over the idiot who wouldn’t lock his door as he stalked into Gary's house, looking as much like he knew what he was doing as he ever did, expecting to find him drunk off his arse in from of the TV. Instead there was no TV just a complex set of glass tubes, beakers and burners sitting on a table the same set up mirrored in the kitchen. Stile felt like he should recognise the equipment but was too focused on finding Gary to think about it. He made his way up the stairs to the second story and a smell hit his nose. 

A familiar sweet smell that made him hesitate as he opened the first door he came to; you couldn’t mistake weed for anything else. 

The room was empty of furniture except benches lined up in near rows covered in plastic bags, equipment and dried plants. Stiles was beginning to suspect that Gary was branching out from his usual low scale shoplifting.

One of the remaining rooms was filled with racks of drying plants and another held live plants. Stiles opened the last door to find it empty except the single sleeping bag on the floor holding one snoring Gary Williams.

Stiles crept in and gently cuffed Gary's hands in front of him before giving him a swift kick to the shin to wake him up. Gary bolted upright swearing before realising his hands were cuffed and falling back onto his arse.

“What the fuck?” he glared up at Stiles. “What the hell man?”

“C’mon Gary I'm taking you to the Sheriffs station for failing to appear for your court date.”

Before the bounty hunter could blink Gary muttered “No way man.” 

And decided to bolt for the stairs. Stiles was shocked for a moment then sped after him enjoying the chase and revelling in the challenge. They pounded down the stairs with Stiles catching up to the cuffed man on his way to the front door which was still open. As Stiles tackled Gary to the ground the floor shook enough for the nearby table to shake. The clinking of glass tubes caught their attention.

“What'll happen if that falls?” Stiles asked quietly pulling himself up slowly while watching the test tubes continue to swing gently.

“It'll blow! RUN!” Gary tried to scramble to his feet as the glass apparatus began falling. His cuffed hands hindering his progress. Stiles grabbed the waist of his pants and hauled the other man out of the front door just as an explosion sounded. 

Smoke began billowing from the upper level as another explosion blew out the kitchen windows. Bits of house came raining down as Stiles dragged his FTA further from the house. A piece of smouldering siding landed right on Stiles’ car adding another explosion to the drama unfolding. 

A few moments went by as Gary collapsed to the ground muttering about ‘hundreds of thousands’ until Stiles noticed the flashing lights of squad cars arriving. Stiles waved to disbelieving deputies who he recognised who promptly jumped on the scanner most likely calling this into his dad. Hi Sheriff your son blew up a house and his car again!

Stiles dragged Gary over to them.

“Heya Boyd. This is Gary Williams. That was his house. Well his mums. He had from what I saw two meth labs and a whole weed growing op going on in there. I don’t think anyone else was home.” The darker skinned man tossed Gary in the back of his cruiser as his partner joined them. “Hey Erica. What’s new?”

“Not much Stilinski, you?”

“Oh, you know same old, same old. Blew up a house. And a car.”

“Wait you wrecked another car?” Erica looked around until she could see the flaming wreck of a car in front of the burning house. “How long did you have this one?”

“Four months.” Stiles sighed.

“Damn my bet was on five to six months before you wrecked it.”

Stiles shook his head at the annoyed blonde and looked toward the house. The fire had calmed down but the smoke was still billowing from the upper story.

“Hey guys there was a whole room of buds drying up there. Shouldn’t you maybe do something?” He pointed towards the group of onlookers standing directly in the path of the smoke.

“Can’t police the air Stilinski.” Erica grinned rocking back on her heels, hands in pockets.

The three nodded in agreement and admired the view for a moment until a voice behind them made Erica and Stiles jump.

“Good to see you take your job so seriously Deputy Reyes.” Derek stood directly behind Stiles’ left shoulder causing him to twist around to stare at the new arrival. Still in the same black leather jacket as yesterday he didn’t look like a cop; he looked like the kind of criminal on the front cover of novels aimed at housewives. The mental image had the bounty hunter suddenly thankful for the extra length to his own jacket. He turned from nodding at Boyd, apparently his best friend, to watch Stiles. 

“So, what did you do this time?” 

“Excuse me?” Stiles felt his eyes turn to slits. “Why do you assume I did anything? I could be an innocent bystander.”

Derek raised an eyebrow at that and reached for Stiles’ head. “Well to start with your hair is kind of burnt off on this side pretty short.”

“What?” Stiles hand shot up to grab the side of his head. The hair was noticeably shorter. “Shit.”

“And second I can see your car still burning from here.”

Stiles pouted for a moment before sighing. He knew Derek wasn’t trying to rile him up however because of their history, and that kiss, Stiles was defensive around him. Also, maybe slightly because Stiles is also dangerously attracted to Derek. In both the exciting ‘let’s have lots of hot sweaty sex’ and in the saccharine ‘I want to curl up next to you every night’ kind of ways. 

“I was capturing Gary Williams who is an FTA that lived in that house, it turns out he went from petty theft to two meth labs and marijuana growing set up since I was here last month.” Stiles frowned at Gary who was still shell shocked in the car; which was understandable it was his mother’s house. “He doesn’t have the brains or the money for this, you guys should do your cop thing and investigate.” 

Derek raised an eyebrow with a smirk at that then jerked his head at Boyd and the other two cops jumped into their squad car taking Gary with them but not before Erica wiggled her eyebrows at Stiles from behind the detectives back; that woman was a menace. “You need a lift to the office?” 

Stiles was surprised by the offer and agreed quickly. 

The drive in Derek’s Camaro was quiet but nice, they didn’t feel the need to fill the silence with chatter which was unusual for Stiles. When Derek pulled up in front of the office, he put a hand on his shoulder to stop him before Stiles could jump out.

“I’ll come by to get your statement later, are you sure you’re alright?” The hand left the shoulder and briefly touched the side of Stiles’ head feather light. 

“Yep. Yeah. Peachy keen. Thanks for the lift.” Stiles raced from the car and into the office before Derek could see how red he was. 

Isaac on the other hand got the full show. “Well well well Stiles who dropped you off that’s got you so flustered?” 

Scotty jumped up from behind a filing cabinet. “What? Who? Dude did you get some?”

“Yeah Stiles who?”

The two grinned at Stiles as he slumped across the front desk. 

“No one. And no, I did not ‘get some’ what are you guys in high school?” 

Isaac grinned, “Nope we are office ladies and we like gossip so spill! That sexy car had to have a sexy driver!”

They both laughed as Stiles went redder. 

“Wait,” Scotty frowned thinking hard. “Sexy car? It wasn’t a Camaro was it?”

When Stiles wouldn’t stop staring at the ceiling Scott threw his hands up in the air.

“Bloody hell not him again? Last time you two hooked up you made the biggest mistake of your life!” 

“Wait who was it?” Isaac frowned at Scott and glanced at Stiles who was now murderously glaring at his almost brother. 

“It was Derek. And nothing happened or will happen.” Stiles crossed his arms. “He doesn’t even like me like that.” 

“Derek as in Derek Hale? Peters-“ Isaac was interrupted by the back-office door opening and Peter Hale himself striding out.

“My nephew, yes.” Peter shook his head staring at Stiles. “Are you really that dumb? He’s obviously in love with you. He was crushed when he heard you got married.”

“I was only married for two weeks! And he’s the one who slept with me and then never called! Actually no; I got the message loud and clear when he slept with me then left to join the Navy without even saying goodbye!” Stiles didn’t realise when he started shouting but he couldn’t seem to stop. “And he’s the one who kissed me yesterday then practically ran off without a word!” 

“Wait-you were married?” Isaac looked at Stiles like he’d never seen him before. 

“Vegas. Stripper. Annulment took two weeks to process.” Stiles waved off Isaac’s questions to continue to glare at Peter. “Whatever you think if he had any feelings for me, he would have done something before now. Maybe in the five years I’ve been working for you or even the four since he joined the force.” 

“You’re in love with him?” Peter frowned at Stiles before laughing scornfully. “Oh, dear god this is hilarious. I can’t believe how stupid you two are. I was ready to defend him but no. You know what? Next time he goes to your place on some cheap excuse offer him a beer, get drunk and screw each other’s brains out. And maybe talk about feelings at some point.” 

Peter shook his head and went back into his office muttering about oblivious idiots wasting his time.

Stiles turned back to see Isaac staring at him like he was a stranger and Scotty’s face covered in a shit eater grin. 

“Scotty give me a lift to dads? I blew up my car again.”

——

When he hit high school, Stiles was given his mum’s old Jeep which he adored. It was his baby and his most prized possession. 

After graduating, working full time at an IT company and saving some money he upgraded to a newer car that didn’t require repairs every third week. It was nice. Until he totalled that car during a snow day and had to go back to the Jeep until he could buy a new one. 

At twenty he was made redundant from his job and desperately needed another job: so, in a fit of depression induced insanity he walked into Peter Hales’ bonds office and asked for a job. 

Five years on and the cycle of have a car, destroy car and return to the baby blue Jeep continued as somehow Stiles became a veritable magnet for trouble. 

He wasn’t the best in the business but he was far from the worst and as most would tell it he was definitely the luckiest. 

Luck could only get him so far, he thought in weary amusement as he pulled away from his dad’s house in a clunky Jeep with a busted stereo. 

—-

The phone call comes in just after Stiles hit the button to hang up after placing his pizza order. He contemplated the cosmic joke that was his life as he resentfully hit the answer button ignoring the flutter in his stomach. 

“Derek,” he answered jovially. “To what do I owe the honour of an after-business hours call?” 

“Still business hours Stiles.” The detective answered in his low baritone. “I was going to come around to get your statement for this morning’s incident if you’re home.” 

“Uh yeah,” the bounty hunter glanced over at the case of beer sitting on his counter mentally cursing his boss. “You could do that. I’m home. No plans to go anywhere tonight.” 

“Alright I’ll see you soon,” the call ended abruptly leaving Stiles glaring off into the middle distance. 

“Right,” he muttered to himself quickly moving his beer to the fridge. “Look busy not pathetic.” 

Running a quick glance over the open area of his apartment he decided it was clean enough and fetched his FTA folders from the messenger bag he used for all things bounty hunter. He also made a mental note to restock the chocolate stash he kept in there. 

When Derek arrived ten minutes later Stiles had forgotten to expect him and was half a page deep on a legal pad making notes about the Moore case. He had a pen between his teeth and was reading over a list of assets used by Mrs. Moore as collateral to hire Werewolf Bonds services; namely he was wondering what kind of bar Sam Moore ran that would deserve a name like ‘The Little Birdie’.

“Oh, Derek hi,” He frowned over at the other man who had let himself into the small apartment and was removing his jacket at the door. “I didn't forget.” Stiles looked at the mass of paper and pictures spread across the kitchen counter. “Ok I slightly forgot. Just let me tidy this up.”

He quickly piled the papers to the side leaving the list of assets on top of his legal pad to remind him to add them to places to investigate.

Draining the last of his beer he stood from his stool to grab another.

“Sit,” he motioned Derek to the stool opposite. “Want a beer?”

At the other man’s nod he pulled two bottles from the fridge the glass clinking the only sound as the detective shuffled his own papers.

“You know the procedure by now,” Derek placed a recording device on the counter between them as Stiles retook his seat and passed over the beer. “Just state for the official record what happened from arriving on the property until you, Mr. Stilinski handed Mr. Williams to Officer Vernon Boyd.” 

So, Stiles began to. In complete and simple sentences. Without even the barest hint of sarcasm. Go Stiles!

“When I came to the front door it was open and I could see the suspicious set up so I went in to investigate-“ Derek hit the pause button and looked at the bounty hunter with raised eyebrows. 

“And what really happened?” 

“The door was unlocked and I thought ‘yay Gary’s a fucking idiot’?”

The detective hit the record button again taking a long drink from his beer. The movement of his throat swallowing distracting the other man as Stiles tried to recapture the thread of his story.

“I noticed one meth lab set up, although I didn’t recognise it until the way out, went upstairs to check the bedrooms and saw the marijuana growing set up. Then came upon Gary Williams my FTA who I then cuffed. He woke up and decided to run.” He didn’t feel any pressing need to mention the kick. “When I tackled him to the ground as he ran for the front door and the impact shook all the glass stuff and something fell. I grabbed Gary and we ran out. House exploded. Something landed on my car and made that explode. Then the valiant Vernon Boyd and brave Erica Reyes arrived on the scene. The end.” 

“Thanks.” Derek rolled his eyes fondly taking the recording device and shoving it into his pocket. He wrote a couple of notes as Stiles drank his beer. The silence was comfortable in a way that made it awkward; they haven’t been close in years they shouldn’t fall this easily into each other’s company. It made Stiles want to scream, hit something or grab the detective by his stupid sexy jacket and drag him to his bedroom and never let him leave. 

He cleared his throat as the detective collected all his folders together and pushed a piece of paper over for Stiles to sign. His witness statement signed concluded Derek’s reason for being there. 

As the two men stood Derek raised a hand to the side of Stiles’ head fingers gentle as they brushed across the shortened hair. 

“You probably should get a haircut to even it out,” his voice a lower and softer whisper than before, thick with unspoken words. 

“Y-Yeah,” The bounty hunters eyes blew wide open as the tentative touch burnt his skin hotter than the fire had. He hadn’t even noticed his hair had been burnt off during the explosions but the faintest brush of fingertips had him in a needy mess heart beating out of control. 

The fingers trailed across the damaged hair tickling against the short bristles sending a shiver across his skin. The two men stared wide eyed at each other in the hushed quiet of the charged moment. The soft touch continued to follow the line of hair in front of Stiles’ ear grazing gently down the skin to stop against his cheek. Derek’s thumb pressed against the shape of the other man’s lower lip eyes flicking down to watch as the mouth parted at the pressure. 

The jarring chime of the doorbell shattered the moment causing the detective to withdraw his hand and move to snatch his files off of the counter. 

“I’ll see you around Stiles,” he murmured grabbing his jacket and opening the front door, to slip past the pizza delivery guy, without sparing a backward glance. 

Stiles stared after him until the delivery guy cleared his throat awkwardly. 

“What the actual shit was that?” The bounty hunter gestured to the now empty hall way. “What the fuck?” 

“Um I don’t know sir,” the delivery guy answered. “I just deliver pizza. That’s fifteen twenty.” 

Stiles grabbed his wallet muttering about indecisive sexy assholes while paying. 

It wasn’t until the next morning that he realised he couldn’t find the asset list and had no idea what he could have done with it. Luckily he remembered the name of the bar.

——

The Bar “The Little Birdie” was one of those tacky Hawaiian theme bars, that Stiles personally felt needed to be burnt down to the ground, set in the middle of the city. This one had walls painted with beach scenes, girls in hula outfits waitressing and margaritas by the bucket. The bounty hunter shuddered in horror at the decor as he stepped into the main bar Scotty at his side. The feeling that the world was still laughing at him amplified when he spotted Hazel Bezzler chatting to someone just a few metres off. 

He had decided to investigate the bar to see if he could get any information that would help find Jackson and Danny but instead it looked like he’d need to hide his car keys. 

“Oh, honey you’re not going to try get me to come in again are you?” Hazel stalked over on leather and leopard print pumps in a matching dress that cling in all the most uncomfortable places. Stiles gulped. The older woman dragged Stiles to the middle of the room to a table and waved ordered two of those buckets. Each held at least ten standard drinks and over three litres of alcoholic slush decorated with fruit, an actual upturned corona, lollies, umbrellas and a plastic parrot. 

Scotty, the traitor, followed behind snorting in amusement. 

“Here’s the deal for tonight Honey; we finish these here buckets- first to bail, puke or pass out loses. You win I go to the station with you, I win and I call the last person who called you to pick you up.” Hazel grins as the drinks arrive. “Well Honey you man enough?” 

“Stiles no.” Scotty shakes his head quickly grabbing Stiles’ shoulder to pull him back. “This is such a bad idea!”

Stiles shakes his head, “Fuck it scotty I’ve had a shit day today and Hazel here needs to get a new court date.” Stiles took a seat across from the eighty nine year old woman and dragged the heavy drink closer, the liquid inside a bright green. 

“Whats the worst that can happen?”

Half an hour later:

“Shiiiit.” Hazel set down a shot glass and took a drink from her bucket. “When you up the stakes you go all out sweetheart!”

Stile licked the inside of his shot glass and glared playfully at the wrinkled woman across from him. He had next to no resistance to alcohol and would have lost after two shots if it wasn’t for the fact that he appeared sober right up until he was fall down shitfaced. 

Scotty shook his head and drank from his third beer. “No fucking idea how I'm gonna explain this one to mum.”

An hour later:

“See. The thing is ya see.” Stiles leant forward whispering around his straw. “I like my job and my boss but my boss is weird; Like I think he fornicates with barnyard animals.”

“Now Honey you aint got nothing on me,” Sweet old Hazel glared at the drink in front of her. “You know that rat I was married to? I stayed boring for him! Bastard had six wives! Married seventy years and he got married on the side! I thought he was a travelling salesman you know? Always going out? Bah!”

Hazel grinned at the two young men. “Let me tell you bout his cock though!”

Scotty grabbed the bottle of vodka from the table and took a direct swig.

Three hours in:

Stiles knew he wasn’t thinking straight and couldn’t feel his face. He knew there was a reason he shouldn’t let Hazel have his phone and he should be suspicious that she was calling someone but he honestly couldn’t give a fuck. Plus it was cute how she giggled manically. It wasn’t until she handed the phone back and kissed him on the cheek that he spoke to her.

“Yer cool even though yous like a hundred.” He slurred out clinging to scotty as he he swayed his way to sit on a bench on the street outside the bar. Inside music and laughter could be heard but outside was hushed and a cool breeze blew. “di’ I win?”

“No hun no one won,” Hazel waved a taxi down dragging Scotty over. “I’ll drop your brother home on my way and you just wait here, yeah? Someone’s here to get you. Thank me later!”

Before Stiles could protest or try to stand someone was in front of him in dark tight jeans and black leather jacket. The spicy scent of cologne made him hum happily.

“Hey I know someone that sexy,” Stiles flung his head back for a better look which didn’t help when he was distracted by the street lights overhead. 

“Stiles.” The warmly amused tone chided pulling the drunk man to his feet and catching him up in strong arms when he stumbled forward. “What happened?”

He felt himself being half steered half carried to a car but couldn't stop himself from talking as garbled words spilled from his lips. 

“Mmm you smell like ‘erek.” Stiles slurred eyes closed and tripped over his words the alcohol making his tongue heavy. “Fuck I love that guy. Stupid pretty face. Dumb sexy smart guy. Ugh” 

“Hazel is a bad ass bitch,” He mumbled against a rock hard chest that smelt like leather and coffee. “There was this big drink, an’ I didn't win but I didn't lose. Story of my freaking life.”


	3. Strained Denim

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Here there be creepy crawlies
> 
> Edit: Please leave a comment to let me know what you think!

Stiles arrived at the office the next morning ready to have a major freak out and make funeral plans; he had a hangover worse than he’d had in years and no memory of getting home. He’d ask Scotty what happened. 

The sight of Derek talking to Isaac; leaning casually against the front desk his back to the door stopped the bounty hunter in the doorway. Stiles took a moment to admire the tantalising view of tight black jeans that clung to every curve and swell of the detectives backside.

Stiles steeled himself; he is calm, confident and don't need no man. Also not going to run away from the intimidatingly hot guy and hide. Nope. Not again.

“Hey guys what’s new?” Stiles breezed casually into the office with a relaxed smile hiding clenched fists in the pockets on his jacket. “Where’s Scotty?”

“Talking to Allison,” Isaac replied giving Stiles a meaningful look filled with fond exasperation.

Allison Argent was the badass bounty hunter Stiles wanted to grow up to be one day. 

However if you didn’t have that predator ‘I just killed a guy’ walk then you probably couldn't pull off her outfit. Allison walked the walk in skin tight black leather pants that she claimed were easier to clean the blood off of, matching Doc Martins and military style leather jacket. She should have looked a little ridiculous in all of that leather except she didn’t: she looked like she would kill you then go get her nails done. 

And Scotty, Stiles’ bestest bro, was in love with her. They’d been dating for three years now and the betting pools for the proposal were getting a bit ridiculous. 

Having her back also meant Stiles would be, happily, handing over the scarring and way over his head Moore case. He pulled the file out of his trusty messenger bag. 

Allison and Scott walked out of the back storage and filing room gazing adoringly at each other. Glancing over Ally noticed Stiles and smiled a dimpled sweet smile at him. 

“Stiles! It’s so lovely to see you!” She sang out. The woman looked the part of baddest badass ever and could certainly back it up with an ass whooping but she was sweeter than a Disney Princess to her friends.

“Hey Ally,” Stiles smiled as the woman walked over and squeezed him to her side with one arm. The other Stiles noticed was holding an equipment duffel bag with the Werewolf Bonds logo. “Going somewhere?” 

“My FTA skipped town to Mexico so I’m off to retrieve him,” She hiked the duffle bag onto her shoulder and frowned down at the folder in the other bounty hunters hands. “I really can’t take that case yet; if you could keep on it, I’d really appreciate it.” 

“Sure thing,” he sighed putting folder back into his messenger bag and avoiding eye contact with Derek who was staring at him obviously amused for some god forsaken reason. It did not bode well. 

Ally waved goodbye to everyone and swept out of the office jumping into her black Jeep to speed away. 

“So,” Stiles turned to the odd man out in the office and smiled awkwardly. “What brings you here Derek?”

The other man gave the bounty hunter a once over before sliding a piece of paper across the tall counter of the front desk towards Stiles.

He barely read the words “incident report” before Derek began to speak capturing his attention.

“In the early hours of this morning the bar ‘The Little Birdie’ belonging to Samantha Moore burnt to the ground; the bar was a known location for a certain gang in the city to have secret meetings-” He leant over his hand brushing against Stiles’ as he turned the paper back towards himself to read the words “one which is reported to have gone down at one AM. You were at the bar from approximately eight PM to twelve thirty AM and the fire started about fifteen minutes after that. I want to know if you saw anything suspicious; any activity or people that looked out of place specifically.” 

The atmosphere in the office froze in shock after the professionally direct and succinct statement. Stiles stared at the detective in confused shock.

“I didn't burn down the bar,” Stiles blurted our desperately he turned to his best friend grabbing the other man’s arms. “Scotty tell me I didn't burn down a bar? Dad will kill me if I burnt down a bar.” He grabbed his hair in frustration. “Fuck I can’t remember anything.” He muttered under his breath. 

A snort from behind him made the bounty hunter spin around and pin the detective with a glare.

“What's so funny?” Stiles could feel his muscles tighten in anger as his eyes narrowed to slits. 

“Stiles I know you didn't burn down the bar,” Derek openly laughed showing his dazzling white teeth in a rare open grin. “You were too drunk to walk at the time let alone plot high level arson. I just needed to check if either of you saw anything.” 

Stiles relaxed slightly feeling like an offended cat letting its hair settle.

“Well, that's uh good. But I didn't see anything. I was plastered from about nine so,” He shrugged helplessly. “We planned to go in there to meet Mrs. Moore but we got sidetracked.”

“Oh, I could tell,” Derek smirked in amusement as he wrote a couple of quick notes down on a notebook. “Well I won’t need you to do an official statement then.”

Still smiling he looked over the bounty hunter again a slow drag of eyes up and down his slim frame causing heat to flush against Stiles’ cheeks. Nodding to the other two in the office he stalked towards the door only turning back as he opened it to shake his head and mutter a soft “see ya round Stiles” before slipping out.

“Ok bro you can close your mouth now,” Scott clapped a hand on Stiles’ shoulder as the door closed making the other man jump slightly. “Enough embarrassing yourself for today.” 

“I didn't- oh my god I totally just embarrassed myself, didn't I?” 

—

To be fair to them Scotty and Isaac didn't tease him for very long; only an hour of mocking laughter.

“Ok you heartless bastard,” he glared at Scotty. “Do you have my car?”

“Nah why would I have your car?”

“Didn't you bring me home last night? I mean someone did?” Stiles could feel his whole face scrunching up trying fruitlessly to recall the events of the night before. 

Scotty’s eyed bugged out in shocked horror. 

“Oh, my lord Stiles! I thought you remembered!” The young man shouted voice turning to a high-pitched squeak. Unsurprisingly their boss stuck his head out of his office door to investigate the noise. “Stiles! You made that bet with Hazel with the drinks?” Scotty watched as vague recollections crosses his friend’s face his voice pitching to a low tone egging on the memories. “And you kinda lost, well you didn’t win, and she called Derek to pick you up?” 

“No.” Stiles stared at his brother is absolute horror. 

“No way.” Isaacs voice was breathless with suppressed laughter the asshole. 

“No freaking way!” The third voice chimed in reminding the other three they were still in the office. Peter Hales laughter could be heard through his door as it closed. 

“Well that’s...” Stiles trailed off as him mind short circuited. He had no idea what had happened and Derek hadn’t acted differently; if anything, he had seemed slightly amused. “Oh crap. He was laughing at me! What did I do?” 

—-

Like any brave idiot Stiles made the executive decision to make Scotty accompany him to fetch his Jeep from the parking lot down from the bar where he’d left it the night before: he’d found his keys in the bottom of his bag. Isaac volunteered to drop them off on his way to some errands. 

If he dropped them off at a cafe on the far side of the burnt down bar from the car park well that was just a slight inconvenience. It just meant they could buy a couple of coffees and a box of doughnuts to snack on while meandering past the crime scene to the Jeep.  
Standing at the crime scene tape the two spotted a familiar face and waved cheerfully. 

“Hey Daddio!” Stiles grinned guilelessly at his father as he approached offering the box he held. “Hungry? Want a doughnut?” 

The sheriff shook his head taking a chocolate glazed and devouring it before choosing another and frowning at the two boys. 

“What do you want Stiles? You only let me have doughnuts when you want something,” he raised an eyebrow expectantly. 

“Can’t a son just bring his old man a snack on his way to his car? Which is a legitimate reason to be here right now. Coincidentally.” Stiles sipped his coffee rocking back on his heals. 

“Alright son I should of had who doesn’t bullshit me,” Sheriff Stilinski turned to Scott. “Why are you boys here?” 

“Well” being caught between two Stilinski’s is like being caught between a rock and a hard place. A sheriff and a bounty hunter. A father figure and a vindictive brother. Sweet Scotty was screwed. “The thing is the bar belonged to one of our FTAs, listed as collateral for the bail, and we just want to know if Sam Moore was in the bar when it burnt down?” 

While the information was basically all correct and he wasn’t outright lying to the sheriff; Stiles almost had to wipe a tear from his eye at the level of evasion and deception he’d taught his best friend. 

“Boss the forensics guys wanna talk to you about something,” Erica called out striding over and snapping of a quick salute that fell just shy of being insolent.

The Sheriff glared at Stiles with a pointed finger. 

“You. Stay out of my crime scene.” 

The bounty hunter spluttered indignantly until his father was out of earshot then turned in a smooth graceful gesture to present the box of doughnuts to Erica.

She took the last chocolate glazed and shared a conspirator’s grin with Stiles. 

“So, what’s new? Did you cut your hair?” He asked eyes on the crime scene. He quickly spotted Derek standing next his father speaking quietly. 

“Only one casualty. Or half.” Came Erica’s reply. When Stiles chanced a look at her he could see she was watching the sheriff as well. Or the sculpted view of the stretch of Derek’s dark jeans as he squatted down to look at something. Not that he’d blame her. “Depends on how you look at it.” 

“On how you look at it?” Stiles quoted reluctantly returning his attention back from the fascinating view of straining denim. 

“Well there is one casualty. But only half a body.” 

“Which half?” 

“Stiles! Not good!” Scotty snacked his best friend in the arm. 

Erica just laughed. He knew you had to have a morbid sense of humour working as a deputy with the shit they saw. And Stiles was either born with one or developed it after spending most of his life around cop types. 

The bounty hunter and deputy shared a knowing look over a grumbling Scott’s head. 

“Well,” Stiles asked again. “What half?” 

Erica just winked and walked away. 

—-

Dropping Scotty off at the office Stiles stared at the folder Alison had refused to take. Inside a page of meticulously written notes caused an uncomfortable pull in the pit of his stomach; feelings he knew to be guilt and anxiety.

He hadn’t known what was happening with Danny but he did know the man. They’d gone to school together and in a twisted way if Stiles was in the position to help him then he couldn’t just walk away. Especially when a child is involved. 

A name catches Stiles’ attention: Lydia Martin. Jackson’s best friend: the father and son were known to visit the Martin family often for play dates. It wasn’t much but it was a lead he didn’t have an hour ago. 

Stiles knew a thing or two about childhood best friends; you told them everything: every secret and fear, every hope and dream. And if Jackson and Lydia are anything like Scott and Stiles were as kids, she might just be the lead Stiles desperately needs to find them. 

Half an hour later after knocking on their front door Stiles was greeted with the unimpressed face of Alistair Martin. 

“Uh hi, is this a bad time?” Now that the door was open the bounty hunter could hear the sound of screaming kids and music from inside the house. “I can come back later?” 

“Nah it’s ok Stilinski. It’ll give me a break. What do ya need?” The man motioned inside with a jerk of his head then lead the way further into the house. Stiles followed warily closing the door behind himself. He remembered the man from his high school days but not much other than a name. 

“Actually, I just wanted to ask you some questions about Danny and Jackson Moore. They’re missing and I’m trying to locate them.” Stiles didn’t miss the way the other man’s steps hesitated at the mention of the names but otherwise he acted neutral.

“Are you working with the police now or something?” Alistair lead Stiles through a lavishly decorated lounge room and into the pristine modern kitchen. A red headed woman was piling food into large platters and smiled as the two men approached. 

“Actually, I’m technically employed by Werewolf Bonds on behalf of Sam Moore to locate Jackson since Danny is now in breach of their custody agreement,” he didn’t miss the look that was shared between the couple and the quick disapproving conversation expressed in their frowns. “But I’ve been asked by some people that know Danny to find him and make sure he’s ok and to make sure Jackson never goes back to his mother.” 

“Oh my!” Mrs. Martin clutched a hand around her throat and her husband held her steady with an arm around her waist. “Thank goodness someone is trying to help them!” 

“We don’t know much,” Alistair murmurs eyes glued to his wife. “But we tried to just be there for them when we could.” 

“We have no idea where they could be but” Mrs. Martin rearranged the party food on the platter with quick fingers. “They said they’d visit for Lydia’s birthday.”

“Do you have any idea where they could be?” 

“I honestly don’t,” the woman looked at her husband then met Stiles’ eyes with a slight frown. “But Lydia might: she does always say there are no secrets between Jackson and her. I’ll see if she wants to speak to you.” 

At that the woman slipped from the kitchen and marched outside carrying the platter of food. Stiles barely had time to become awkward in the following silence when a young girl with bright red hair, an impressively elaborate tiara and a blue princess dress flounced right up to him and stood with her hands on her hips demanding his attention. 

“Are you the bounty hunter?” She asks imperiously tossing her curled hair over a shoulder in a practiced move. In one hand she held a little plastic silver sceptre which she now points at Stiles menacingly. 

“Um,” Stiles looks to Alistair who just shrugs and laughs in the way parents always do to the childless faced with an inquisitive mind. “Yeah that’s me. Stiles Stilinski.”

He squats down and holds out a hand to shake. She stares at it and him with cautious eyes before firmly taking his larger hand in her small ones. 

“Lydia Martin.” She introduces herself. “Today I’m a princess because it’s my birthday. Are you going to help Jackson and his daddy?” 

“Well your highness I’m trying to but I can’t find them to help them. Do you know where they could be hiding?”

“No.” 

“Um, ok.” Stiles bites his lip for a second as he thinks what he would say if he was talking to himself at this age about Scott. “So, you’re best friends with Jackson, right?” 

“Of course! Bestest best friends!” Lydia grins proudly. 

“Wow that’s impressive!” Stiles transforms his face into that of complete awe. “If Jackson could go anywhere in the world where would he go?” 

“Disneyland!” The little girl gives a quick twirl. “But he wouldn’t go without me! We said we’d go together!” 

“Well of course he wouldn’t go without his princess best friend!” Stiles grabbed his chest in mock horror. “But if you’re Jackson’s bestest best friend does his daddy have a best friend?” 

“Yeah his daddy’s best friend is Ethan!” She smiled happily. 

Stiles nodded along seriously. “Best friends are the most important ever!” 

Another little girl started yelling for Lydia from outside so Stiles smiled at the girl. 

“I promise you princess I’m going to help Jackson and his daddy.” 

She nodded slowly watching him as he stood up. She twirled on the spot and ran outside to join back into her party. 

“Do you know who Ethan is?” Stiles turned to Alistair. 

“Yeah, I, uh, know he’s close to Danny. If you know what I mean?” The man blushed slightly as he raised his eyebrows. 

Stiles snorted. It was a horribly kept secret that Danny was gay throughout high school. It had been a shock that he’d married Sam and had a son straight out of high school. The gossip network had exploded over that one. 

“Do you know where I can find him? Or his last name?” 

“Steiner. Dunno where he lives though. Will that help?” 

“It should do. Thanks for everything.” Stiles held out his hand to shake. “And if Danny does come by tell him I’m looking for him and I’m trying to help. Tell him Nurse McCall is the one who sent me not his ex.” 

The man nodded. He didn’t know if Danny would visit at all but he knew that if he did the message would be passed on. 

——

Calling in a favour with a deputy Stiles had nothing better to do while waiting for information on Ethan Steiner so he decided to go for a jog. 

Not that he felt inadequate standing next to Derek’s chiselled body or Alison’s leather clad form. He just wanted to take care of his health. And exercise was good for healthy stuff. 

He may have also eaten a box of doughnuts while driving past the houses of a couple of FTAs that he decided weren’t home and he couldn’t possibly catch today. 

But whatever the reason Stiles Stilinski found himself at one of the local jogging paths that lead a winding path around a small lake and through part of the forest at the edge of the Beacon Hills preserve. Dressed in his favourite jogging outfit of softer and rattier than hell singlet and shorts that allowed the cool air to nip at his skin uncomfortably he felt properly motivated to get the exercise done with. Stiles approached jogging much in the same way he approached most things considered healthy: with spite fuelled hatred. 

With each step than thudded down he swore internally. With every leaf he crushed underfoot he felt victorious. He could feel his breath burning the back of his throat as he hit the final stretch of the path back towards where he’d parked his Jeep. Putting in a final burst of speed he raced across the distance fully prepared to collapse as soon as he reached his car. 

Landing against the side of the Jeep Stiles dug his keys out of his pocket shakily opening the door as his lungs protested demanding more oxygen even as his heart started to slow into its regular rhythm. 

Collapsing into the driver’s seat the exhausted man chugged down a bottle of water while trying the key in the ignition. The Jeep struggled to life coughing and stuttering. 

“C’mon I need a fucking shower, don’t do this to me Roscoe!” Stiles muttered thumping the steering wheel. The engine caught and roared to life. “Oh, thank fuck!” 

The drive back to his apartment was usually a quick one when he drove idly however after his jog Stiles was focused on getting home and having a shower so he didn’t notice anything unusual until he was almost halfway home driving down Main Street. 

The first thing he noticed was a hot pink card sitting on the passenger’s seat. He flicked a glance at the empty road ahead and picked up the card effectively dumping a butt load of bright pink glitter across his lap. Swearing profusely, he pulled over trying to brush off the clinging bits of pink from his shorts and exposed legs. 

Realising the futility of the gesture he instead opened the card. 

I don’t like people playing with my toys. Back off. 

P.s Maybe you like spiders better than snakes? 

Drawing in a steadying breath the bounty hunter grabbed his bag, with his phone in it, and the card. Feeling like an extra in a bad horror movie from the sixties Stiles turned around in the Jeep to look at the back seat. 

At first, he couldn’t tell what he was looking at; a brown mass skittering and twitching across the entirety of the back seat of his Jeep. 

His eyes flickered to movement next to his hand as something moved across it. Flinching then wrenching his hand away in a frantic movement he felt a sharp pain on the back of his wrist. 

With a dead calm only brought about by pure terror the man exited his car without turning it off and silently walked around to the footpath where he squatted, dropping his bag and covering his face with his hands as he screamed into his palms. 

“What the actual fuck!” Jerking upright he paced back and forth beside his car receiving odd looks from passer-by. 

Pulling out his mobile he dialled his dads’ number. Receiving no answer, he hung up and called his dads direct line. Hearing the monotonous trill of the call cut off he immediately dialled the station directly. 

“Beacon Hills Sheriff’s department this is Deputy Parish how can I help you?” A cheerful voice answered almost immediately. 

Stiles couldn’t find the words to convey what he needed. 

“Um hello is someone there?” 

“Yeah. Uh yeah,” Stiles dragged in a stuttering breath. “This is Stiles Stilinski the Sheriff’s son.”

“Yes, I know who you are Stiles,” Parish laughed in friendly banter. “What can I do for you?” 

“Can I speak to my dad?” 

“Sorry he’s in a meeting can I take a message?” 

“Uh ok yeah sure.” Stiles wet his dry lips. “Tell him I think I pissed off a psychopath who is trying to kill me. Probably.” 

“What?” The word squeaked across the line. “Did something happen? Do I get someone?” 

“Just pass on the message. I’m ok just in shock a bit I think- “Stiles stopped feeling pity for the new deputy. “Maybe just pass on the message to someone else to deal with?” 

“Yeah just hold on a sec.” The hold tone buzzed in Stiles’ ear. 

“Stiles? What’s up hun?” A cheerful voice cut across as the line suddenly picked up. “Parish says you have a message for your dad? Is it urgent?” 

“Oh, hey Tara yeah I do, dunno if it’s important though,” Stiles recognised the voice as Deputy Tara Briggs who has worked with his dad for as long as he could remember. The woman had helped him with his fourth-grade homework. “Just I think I pissed of a psychopath who is probably maybe trying to kill me. But I don’t know.” 

“Stiles where are you?” Tatar’s tone dropped low and soothing which Stiles recognised her ‘talking to victims’ voice. “Are you hurt? What happened?” 

“It’s spiders. My Jeep is full of spiders.” Stiles could hear the words coming out of his mouth but failed as he tried to talk more normally. “I think one bit me,” he glanced down at his wrist “yep I’ve been bitten and I might be panicking a little.” 

“Fuck where are you kid?” Stiles could hear her talking away from the phone but couldn’t register the words. 

“Main Street. Outside the coffee shop.” 

“Ok we’ll be there soon. How do you feel?” 

“Fine I’m fine. It’s just spiders.” 

“Yeah I know kid. Fuck spiders.”  
Stiles hummed in agreement. As his heart slowed down and the adrenaline faded, he started to laugh. 

“Seriously fuck spiders,” spotting flashing lights he told Tara the Deputy’s had arrived and hung up on her. 

As he looked at himself and the situation Stiles began to laugh harder; covered in pink glitter, bitten and with god knows how many spiders in his Jeep his day had gotten fucking ridiculous. 

Seeing Derek jump out of the patrol car and rush towards him with Erica in tow just made him laugh harder. It’s was that or start to cry. 

“Seriously fuck spiders.” Was all he could say as they reached him. Derek grabbing him and looking him over for injury. Stiles held up his wrist for inspection. “Fuck. Spiders.” 

“Where’s the spider that bit you Stiles? Can you identify it?” Erica asked quietly. Again, with the victim voice Stiles realised he must be losing it a bit for the usually brash blonde to treat him gently. 

With a jerk of his head he indicated the Jeep. 

“Windows. Don’t open the doors.” She nodded and walked over to look through the glass. 

Stiles turned to Derek who still hadn’t said anything. He was caught in the fierce green-eyed gaze as the detective frowned at him. 

“What’s up dude?” He asked smiling at the exasperation that flickered across Derek’s face. 

“Stiles,” he practically growled in response the hand around the bounty hunter’s uninjured wrist tightening.

Before Stiles could begin his tale, he was spun on the spot, wrist slipping from Derek’s grip and hugged tightly against a familiar warm chest. 

“Hey dad I’m fine, you know I’m fine.” Stiles patted at his father’s shoulder awkwardly. “You didn’t leave that important meeting for little ol’ me, did you?” 

“I was worried for you kid,” his dad pulled away and inspected him at arm’s length. “Now what the hell happened to have Tara freaking out over your call?” 

“Tara was freaking out?” 

“Yeah kid she was, she said you weren’t talking like yourself,” he patted his sons head fondly “gave us all quite a scare.” He turned all business as he straightened and glanced over at Derek. “So, what happened? From the beginning please.” 

“The beginning is probably a boring story about this god forsaken Moore case I was given. The better story to tell would be that I was coming back from a jog at the path at the edge of the preserve: I didn’t see anyone when I arrived, while jogging or when I left. No signs of tampering with old Roscoe or anything suspicious. But I wasn’t paying much attention so I got about here,” he waved at his parked Jeep which Erica was standing next to looking disgusted, “when I noticed a pink card on the seat that wasn’t there before. I pulled over to read it and got covered in glitter,” at this the three all glanced down at Stiles’ exposed legs covered in a thick layer of bright pink glitter. “It’s in my bag of you wanna read it. It’s says basically: don’t play with my stuff. Back off. Then something along the lines of: if you don’t like snakes maybe you’ll like spiders.” 

Stiles shuddered. He couldn’t help it but he still hated it. They’d gotten the reaction they wanted from him. 

“I looked in the back and there’s about twenty of these huge spiders. Big as a dinner plate. One of them crawled on my hand and when I tried to flick it off it bit me.” He glanced down at his red and swollen wrist. “I’m not dead yet so it’s probably ok.” 

“The rest you know because I called for help and waited here. I didn’t shoot anything or blow anything up.” 

“You know I don’t think anyone’s claiming any bets on this one kid. You gave us all a heart attack.” The sheriff clasped a hand to Stiles’ should squeezing hard for a moment before going to join Erica looking at the spiders. Derek stood next to the bounty hunter hands in pockets and glaring off into the distance. 

More flashing lights heralded the arrival of the EMTs followed closely by the animal control guys. Stiles was ushered by Derek into sitting in the back of the ambulance as the EMTs checked his blood pressure. 

The bite on his wrist had swollen to twice its size and had begun to hurt with a burning pain. The EMTs were waiting, what felt like hours but was realistically only minutes, for the animal control guys to identify the spiders. 

One of the men in the ugly blue coveralls jogged over to the waiting ambulance. 

“Ok we’ve identified the spiders,” he glanced between the paramedics and Derek. “One of the types of spiders is a Giant Huntsman and generally harmless. The other is a Brown Recluse which can be much more deadly. Both exhibit the same symptoms at the initial stages after being bitten. The huntsman bite will hurt but generally harmless. The recluse on the other hand has flesh eating venom and can cause major problems.” 

“Do you think you can positively identify which spider was on your hand? They are very different.” The animal control man, Greg his name tag helpfully proclaimed, motioned back the way he came looking at Stiles this time. “We’ve got them separated and boxed up. It could save you a hospital trip.” 

“Yeah sure let’s do that.” Stiles waved his uninjured hand in agreement. The paramedic passed him an ice pack for the bite and released him. Derek followed silently like a deranged guard dog. 

Walking over Stiles wanted nothing more than to run in the opposite direction. Two plastic boxes sat on the side walk with spiders skittering around inside. Stiles marched himself forward, pretending to be an unaffected badass and looked down into the boxes studying the creepy buggers against his panicked memories. 

“That type,” he pointed into the boxes with the larger hairy spiders. “It was way bigger than my spread hand for sure and the creepy hairy legs.” 

“Hey spiders aren’t creepy!” Greg groused. “But that’s a pretty positive ID. Giant huntsman. Not deadly and no flesh-eating toxins.” 

“Great. Fantastic. Cool.” Stiles turned to his Jeep where the second animal control guy was searching it with large leather gloves. “So, can I burn my car to the ground now?” 

Most of the people surround him chuckled grimly at the joke but Stiles noticed Derek just glared off to the side. 

Stiles was saved from having to make an awkward sarcastic and ultimately embarrassing attempt at getting on Derek’s good side by none other than his father. 

“Actually, this is now a police matter Stiles. You’ll need to come in to make a statement.” He glared down at the boxes of spiders. “A potentially fatal prank so soon after the snakes means someone’s after you son and it’s our job to figure it out. This is attempted murder Stiles.”

Stiles huffed out an annoyed sigh. Just what he needed. 

“Fine but there better be chocolate and coffee!” 

Secretly, although probably not so secretly, he was really, very, completely freaking happy not to be getting into the Jeep. Fucking spiders.


	4. Glitter

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> We all should know you can never get rid of glitter. The shiny pest will outlive our civilisation.

It took six hours to go over everything what felt like a hundred times at the station. They recorded everything he said then made him go over it again. He had to recap the snake incident and asked who he suspected would want to do this. Stiles couldn’t say why but he didn’t tell anyone who he suspected. He just said he didn’t know; he’d taken enough FTAs to jail that it was a believable story. Which was a bit sad honestly. 

Finally, after all the questions, several rounds of the older generation of deputies reassuring themselves he was still alive Stiles was finally released to go home. Except home meant to his dads place so Melissa could be on hand to keep an eye on the bite. Which honestly felt like overkill since it had stopped hurting a while ago and the swelling was already almost gone. 

By the time he could actually leave Stiles was so relieved and exhausted, despite it only being early afternoon, he didn’t bother to protest as his father hustled him into his car and back to his house in the suburbs. Melissa was waiting at the door with Scotty. 

Knowing his family was all under one roof tonight made something in Stiles stomach twist with warmth. He ducked his head to hide a smile as Melissa dragged him into a rib crushing hug which Scott happily joined. 

Despite the early hour once they’d all settled inside and Scott had turned the tv on Stiles promptly fell asleep. The long day caught up to him dragging him under with the soft slow call of sleep. Every time he blinked felt longer than the last until he was opening gritty eyes to a dark room. 

Checking his phone, he could see it was only just past eight but everyone seemed to be in bed already. 

Stumbling upright Stiles found his way upstairs to his old room easily enough. When Melissa and his father had finally admitted their relationship Melissa’s house had become theirs with their shared bedroom, the joining firewall remodelled for east access and the Stilinski side became a guest side with rooms for Scott and Stiles. The two men kept spare clothes there for the odd occasion when they stayed the night. 

Grabbing a spare set of clothes Stiles made his way as quietly as he could to the bathroom. He desperately needed a shower. And better the glitter gets stuck in his dad’s house than his apartment. 

Dumping his phone on the counter and peeling off his sweat crusted workout clothes Stiles turned the hot water on as high as he could. 

Watching the steam fog up the window obscuring the view of the waning full moon the young man couldn’t help feel that he should be in the middle of some kind of deep philosophical thoughts; however, he just couldn’t drag his mind away from the horrifying realisation that his dick is coated in pink glitter. 

Stiles had to physically shake himself and get into the shower. Ignoring all glitter related thoughts, he started scrubbing. 

Halfway through the boiling shower when he was scrubbing his hair Stiles heard his phone go off with a message. Followed by another. He ignored the chimes as he dedicated his focus to cleaning himself. 

Finally stepping out and drying off his body with his eyes closed the big brave bounty hunter squinted open one eye to sneak a glance downward and groaned in almost physical pain at the sight that greeted him. Distracting himself Stiles grabbed his phone to look at the messages, heart fluttering at seeing Derek’s contact name on the screen. 

Are you awake?

I’m outside. 

Stiles looked at the time stamp and flicked back a quick text; upon receiving a reply he shoved his foot almost through his jeans in his haste to get dressed. Trying for stealth he tripped and thudded down the stairs jumping to pull up his jeans while holding his shirt and flannel in his mouth as he struggled to get outside as quickly as possible but also as modestly as possible.

Tripping over the carpet at the bottom of the stairs Stiles pulled on his shirt and hastily running a hand through his hair as he took a deep breath and casually opened the door; spying Derek leaning against his Camaro parked at the curb he pulled on the plaid flannel as he strolled over. 

“Hey,” he smiled at the other man. “Sorry I was in the shower when you messaged.” 

“Stiles,” Derek reached out a hand to touch the damp hair at the side of the bounty hunters head. “I just wanted to make sure you’re ok.” 

Derek took a deep breath hand trailing down Stiles’ neck curling at the base in a gentle comforting gesture.

“I just needed to see you with my own eyes,” Derek stepped forward angling his face down towards the other man’s; breath ghosting over his lips in a gentle caress. “I just-“ 

“You wanted to see my glitter dick, didn’t you?” Stiles interrupted unable to control himself or his snorted laugh. 

“What?” Derek pulled back sharply eyes confused. 

Stiles realised he’d fucked up. 

“Shit I know. I can’t help it. It’s all I can think about!” His arms waved spastically the they did when he was in high school and couldn’t articulate properly. “My dick is covered in pink glitter! I’m traumatised!” 

The expressions on the detective’s face flowed from offended to exasperated to amused before finally seeming to settle of tolerating affection. Which wow. That was a good look on Derek. Almost like he didn’t find the bounty hunters odd segue of mood ruining to be a bad thing. Or at least not shocking. 

“I’m glad you’re fine Stiles,” The man leant in grabbing Stiles by the neck and pecking him quickly on the lips in a practiced and comforting gesture before circling his car and driving off. 

Stiles was left yet again staring gobsmacked after the man. 

“Not fine!” He yelled impotently after the disappearing taillights. “Glitter dick!” 

——

There was absolutely nothing good about being called into Peters office; The man maintained that he employed bounty hunters not lawyers so had no need to babysit his employees. 

Which created more questions about Peters life prior to fugitive apprehension but Stiles was a don’t ask don’t get traumatised kinda guy. 

Also, his boss had the most fascinating library in his office that Stiles had ever seen and every time he stepped foot in the room, he immediately planned a heist. And Peter just looked at him with a knowing smirk. The twat. 

“Ok boss what’s with the invite into your inner sanctum,” Stiles was looking at the books rather than his employer as the view was decidedly better. Who has a complete set of texts documenting medieval Russian torture techniques written in French? Peter Hale that’s who. 

Peter snorted in amusement. 

“Here,” he passed over an unsealed envelope. “The Moore case has been closed. The police have declared Sam Moore dead although that’s not public knowledge at the moment but we’ve managed to settle it as a complete case since technically the custody dispute is complete. Just a little sub clause I added in.” 

Stiles opened the envelope and looked at the figure on the paperwork. Fuck. 

“Fuck,” he swore brows furrowed. “This is like ninety percent of the money? Why?” 

“Well you did do all the legwork. I decided to give Alison ten percent for her contribution,” he waved a hand at a second envelope then to the door. “That’ll be all.” 

It was a clear and frankly rude dismissal. 

“Wow Peter it’s been lovely we really should do this again some time!” Stiles called out faux sincerely with a fluttered hand in his boss’s direction as he left the office. 

“Scotty!” He immediately yelled out racing towards the front door. “I need a lift to the car yard!” 

Scott appeared from behind Isaac’s desk. 

“What happened?” 

“I got paid!” The bounty hunter crowed. He then paused at looked between Isaac and Scotty. “What were you doing under-? Actually no. I don’t wanna know! Let’s go!”

“Stiles! It wasn’t-!” Scott turned beet red and spluttered coming out from around the desk. 

“Stiles sign these before you go,” Isaac the consummate professional held a handful of FTA papers out on the desk. Stiles scrawled his signature and accepted a handful of new cases easily. “Barns is earliest at two weeks.” 

Stiles shoved the files into his messenger bag and grabbed Scotty to push him out the door. 

He had a new car to buy. 

——

For all that Stiles was impulsive and reckless he was also painfully aware of the life expectancy of any car he drove. 

So even though he now had enough money in the bank to buy a brand-new car or bloody close to it he instead found himself driving home in a “new” red SUV that had seen better days. But it was clean, the heating worked and had the added bonus of enough space in the back seat to haul FTAs back to lock up.

Ok maybe Stiles was just a Scrooge when it came to spending big dollars. 

To celebrate no longer having to deal with the Sam Moore case Stiles splashed out and bought himself a tub of ice cream and a six pack of beer on the way home for lunch. 

Breaking into his completely healthy snack the bounty hunters gaze was drawn across the kitchen counter to the Moore file sitting where he’d left it a sticky note with Ethan Steiner's phone number scrawled across it. He’d gotten the phone number just before Peter had called him in to take him off the case. 

Theoretically he could take the file and everything related to it and throw it in the bin. Right now. There was nothing stopping him. 

Except. 

Putting down the tub of ice cream Stiles pulled the file towards where he was standing with a finger. Biting his lip, he opened it flipping through some pages until he found what had him eating pity ice cream instead of celebrating his payday. 

On the counter sat a glossy photograph of two people; Danny familiar in the way people you grow up with always are: glowing tan skin and the crooked smile curving across his face. He didn’t look so different from high school a bright shining happiness in his eyes; the only signs of the years being longer than most were fine scars and lines across his face. But his happiness was genuine and the reason for it was obvious: A blonde haired, fair skinned boy who seemed to hold no resemblance to the man holding him loosely in his arms. No resemblance except the happiness and love the two shared that was obvious even from a photograph. 

Stiles looked to the end of his kitchen counter, cluttered with mail to an almost identical photo of his father holding Scott and himself back when they were six. 

He knew he couldn’t throw out the file. The case wouldn’t be over until he saw Jackson Moore for himself and told Danny they were safe now. 

Swearing Stiles put his ice cream away and stalked out the door. 

——

The first impression of Ethan Steiner left no questions about his relationship with Danny. 

Opening the door in a T-shirt that proclaimed ‘I’m not straight but $20 is $20’ the man snorted looking the bounty hunter up and down before slamming the door shut in his face. 

Knocking again on the front door of the house and attempting not to get pissed off by the clear dismissal Stiles yelled out conscious of a neighbour watching from his front porch. 

“Look I’m not after Danny I just need you to pass a message to him!”

“Go away Stilinski!” Ethan yelled back from behind the closed door. “I’m not going to be some kind of informant to lead you to Danny!”

“Just tell him I’m here because Nurse McCall asked me to not his ex!” Stiles growled at the door. Why doesn’t anyone want him to help? “Fuck you Steiner I’m trying to be a fucking good person!” 

The door cracked open revealing the blonde hair and suspicious green gaze of the homeowner. 

“You’re really not out to get them?” Ethan asked easing the door open enough to speak easily but not releasing the safety chain. 

“Ok how about you just pass on a message?” Stiles took a calming deep breath carefully not staring at the toy truck visible in the hallway. “Tell him ‘ding-dong the bitch is dead.’ And to call me so I can help because there’s way more to this than I’ll ever figure out on my own and I need to know he and Jackson are safe. Ok?” 

The bounty hunter held out a business card with his mobile number. Ethan reached out a hesitant hand still not opening the door any further.

“Can you help them? Really?” The blond man stared down at the numbers as if they held some complex answer instead of the man in front of him. 

“Yeah. I think I can and I want to.” Knowing his time was up and nothing more could come from pushing the obviously protective man Stiles lifted an awkward hand in farewell and jogged back to his new car. 

He suspected Ethan knew exactly where Danny and Jackson were but he also knew if he pushed, they might hide and he’d be completely out of leads then.


	5. Disneyland or beer?

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> I hate summarising chapters because what’s the point of reading them? Things happen 🙂

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sparodic updates and no beta reader because I’m double birding life at the moment. 
> 
> Comment and kudo ❤️ These things are literally the best ever ❤️

Anthony Rogers was a repeat offender. He would steal cars and do small time robberies, get bailed out by his frankly saintly tolerant wife, get drunk and miss his court date. Picking him up always differed; if his wife was in, he’d be repentant and obey her every word. If she wasn’t Stiles would have to outsmart him. Not exactly something worth bragging about.

Luckily with repeat offenders you got a pretty good grasp on their schedules.

Stiles pulled up in front of the unit and glanced at his watch. He’d timed it just about perfectly: Mrs. Rogers would have just left for church and wouldn’t be back for a good couple of hours.

Maybe it was unethical to choose certain captures when he was in a bad mood and need a distraction but hey, it’s not like he was roughing up the guy. Unless he tried to run.

Taking his stun gun, pepper spray and handcuffs just in case Stiles approached the front door with a manic grin.

Opening the unlocked front door, the bounty hunter felt a sick satisfaction at kicking the door closed with a loud bang.

A startled blonde head popped up from in front of the couch where a pretty girl in a tight tank top was crouched in front of Mr. Rogers.

Stiles jerked his head at the door causing the woman to flee avoiding his eye.

“Oh Tony,” Stiles shook his head in mock disappointment at the man caught unzipped and exposed on the couch. “You never fail to be so predictable and disappointing.”

“Fuck you Stiles,” The man muttered tidying himself up and grabbing his jacket. He approached Stiles with hands out expectantly but the bounty hunter shook his head and twirled a finger. Really Rogers should know better by now. Handcuffing his wrists behind his back Stiles led the man back to his car.

“Hey man you know the deal: no fuss, no fighting and I don’t tell Your wife your not just a lowlife no good criminal but also a cheating scumbag.” Stiles smirked at the man. Really it was his own fault for being so damn predictable and reliant on his wife’s generosity.

——

Dropping Rogers off was usually a quick in and out but he was told his car was ready to be released.

Chatting to deputy Parish as he waited for the paperwork Stiles felt himself relaxing.

“No way you don’t actually like DC, right?” Stiles squinted at Parish. “Batman is my all-time favourite for childhood reasons but DC?”

“What can I say? I like what I like.” Parish grinned at Stiles, obviously enjoying their banter as his face lit up with amusement. “I know everyone’s Marvel these days but I’m a loyal kind of guy.”

“But DC is just the worst to its characters it’s all brooding and no development!” Stiles leant his elbows on the high counter of the front desk where Parish was stationed to stop himself from gesturing wildly. “At least Marvel characters learn and change! They don’t just get the reboot! C’mon Deputy Parish you’re killing me!”

“You can just call me Jordan you know,” The man replied with a charming smile. “Plus, it’s not like I hate Marvel.”

“Really?” Stiles squinted suspiciously at the uniformed man in front of him who barely held back an answering smile. “Have you seen the new movie yet?”

“Uh actually no.” The Deputy, Jordan his mind helpfully supplied, shuffling awkwardly. “I’ve just been so busy since starting here and I didn't have anyone to go with-“ his voice trailed off and his green eyes flashed to Stiles. How did Stiles not notice how damn pretty his eyes were before?

Before either could say anything else, and Jordan had opened his mouth to say something cheeks flushed, a voice called for Stiles from down the hall.

Derek stood at the end of the hallway leading back to the offices, arms crossed over an impressively tight sweater. With his gun and badge at his belt the man looked all kinds of sexy and dangerous. Also pissed off but as his default expression was a resting bitch face Stiles knew he probably hadn’t done anything to cause it today. Probably. He was too far away to hear their harmless flirting at any rate. 

Looking back at Parish to make a joke he realised how close the man had gotten when he was suddenly much further away sitting back in his chair.

Shrugging Stiles flicked a salute and sauntered off to join detective grumpy. “Later Jordan.”

“Heya Hale how’s it hanging?” Derek turned on his heel and marched off down the corridor without a word. Stiles raised his eyebrows at the retreating back before following. “Okay. Guess we aren’t doing pleasantries today huh?”

The detective shot him a small frown slowing his steps half a pace so they were walking side by side but still didn't say anything.

Entering Derek’s office Stiles realised he’d never been in there before. It looked like a spartan office from a boringly accurate detective show; which, disappointing, the bounty hunter had wondered if there would be more than the standard filing cabinets, desk and book cases. Apparently not; except a small picture of his ridiculously large family.

“Man, I love what you’ve done with the place really,” Stiles spun on his heel to grin at Derek as the detective closed and locked the door. Whatever else he might have said was cut off as he was pulled in and shoved back against the door.

Suddenly finding his mouth otherwise occupied the bounty hunter couldn’t find a reason to complain about the rough man handling. In fact, he found himself very much enjoying it; one hand grasping at the short fine hairs at the back of Derek’s head and the other helplessly gripping the front of his sweater in a desperate attempt to find something solid to hold onto as his knees threatened to give out.

As Derek pulled back Stiles almost followed half dazed and gasping for breath, finding it in short gasps as the other man started talking.

“That shouldn’t have happened. Forget that happened.” The words sent a bucket of cold water down over the bounty hunter as the rejection swept through his body.

“Ok,” Stiles steeled himself as Derek pulled away. He needed to clarify this because it seemed to be a reoccurring theme between them: Derek running hot and cold without warning. “Ok I’m going to need you to clarify that one for me. We shouldn’t have kissed? Or kissed in your office?”

“Stiles,” there was a heavy knock on the door and Derek’s eyes grew huge in panic as he looked at it. “Shit. Just forget it ok?” He hissed out in a harried breath. He pushed Stiles towards one of the visitor’s chairs and opened the door. “Sheriff. We’ve just got to sign the release forms. I’ve got them here.” Derek nodded welcome to his boss and Stiles’ father then turned back to his desk handing the paperwork over to the bounty hunter to sign. 

Stiles nicked a pen from the desk and signed at each helpful sticky note. By now he’d done this dozens of times so he knew the drill.

“I’ll drive the Jeep home and you can drop me back alright Stiles?” The Sheriff asked his son kicking his chair leg.

“Shh dad I’m at signature one hundred and fifty-three don’t break my concentration,” Stiles poked his tongue out at his dad and signed the last form with a flourish. “Done! My soul sold for tickets to Disneyland!”

“I’m not taking you to Disneyland Stiles,” Derek frowned at him which from the detective was practically a flirtatious wink.

“How about a movie instead?” Stiles rejoined standing so they were at eye level holding out the paperwork. Derek’s fingers brushed softly across his, unseen behind the documents, however before either of them could say or do anything to break the building tension a loud rough throat clearing reminded them there was someone else in the room. Someone else watching with an amused smirk.

“C’mon son lets go so you can get on with your important day,” The Sheriff broke the embarrassed silence, grabbing his son by the shoulder to steer him to the door nodding to the detective as they left. “Thanks for that Derek.”

Derek nodded in reply already starting to sort the paperwork for filing. He didn’t even look at Stiles as the other man glanced over at him before leaving.

——

Dropping his father back at the station Stiles didn’t stop. Instead he grabbed the next file on top of his stack of FTAs and headed in the direction to find Jane Kirk his favourite prostitute and weekly FTA.

Not wanting to think about Derek Stiles instead considered the chances he’d never have to drive the Jeep again. They weren’t looking good.

At least he was assured that there were no more spiders in his car. The animal control guys had done a second sweep before the station would release his car. That and on the way home Stiles had stopped by the shops and bought three dozen bug bombs. It may have been overkill and his dad may have also questioned if it was legal to set off that many bombs in such a small space but the bounty hunter would feel safer in the knowledge that no spider could survive that onslaught. Or person for that matter considering that with the size of the garage the recommended number to use was three bombs Stiles was reasonably assured that nothing could survive that.

At least next time his car blew up or caught fire he’d have his back up ready and spider free.

Seriously. Fuck spiders.

—

“So about that movie,” Stiles cringed at the comment the second he said it. He almost decided to bang his head again his kitchen counter where he was sitting however he decided to not compromise his last functioning brain cells; soon as Derek answered the phone his iq had dropped and he’d started talking and couldn’t stop nervous flutters gripping his stomach. “Or hell: no movie let’s get a beer.”

“Stiles what’re you on about?” The detective sounded amused which was good.

“Well Derek we are two grown ass men and if I can’t end the flirting and frankly intimidating sexual tension by actually asking you out on a date then I’ll have to hand in my man card. This isn’t some kind of crappy b grade teen movie;” Stiles jumped down from the stool and paced across his apartment floor. “I like you and I’m half sure you like me so; do you want to go out with me?”

“Yes Stiles I do,” the immediate and sincere reply had the bounty hunters heart racing only to plummet with the next words: “but I cant- we cant- until I-“ the choppy continuation caused anxiety to twist in his gut “there’s something I have to tell you.”

“What kind of something?”

“It’s just a secret and I can’t tell you over the phone and it might change everything,” he could hear the other man shifting; the telltale creak of his leather jacket loud over the silence. “But it’s not a bad thing; I just have to tell you before we can start dating.”

“So you want to date me?” The question felt pathetic and small but Stiles felt like it had to be asked. He needed to know Derek wanted this too.

“Stiles I’m in love with you. Of course I want to date you.”

Those words stopped everything for the bounty hunter as his heart started pounding and he felt giddy with bright happiness.

“You love me?”

“Yes Stiles I-“ he was cut off and muffled noises came over the phone. “Shit sorry a jobs come up and I’ve gotta go: I’ll see you tonight?”

“Uh yeah. Yes.”

“I’ll come to yours at six and we can talk.”

Before stiles could say anything else the line went dead and he slumped across the bench-top giddy.

He has a kinda date with the hottest detective on the force who was in love with him! And... he hadn’t said it back. Which was wow, kinda a dick move. But he also didn’t think he could say that without knowing what kind of secret was serious enough to stop Derek from even going to a movie together.

Realising he has little more than two hours until six Stiles jumps up and starts cleaning the apartment; tidying away dirty laundry and picking up the scattered files. He might also need to have a shower. Just in case.

—-

Six o’clock swung around and past while Stiles sat alone on his old couch nursing a beer. Unsure if he should call or text the man left his phone on the coffee table where he could stare listlessly at it. By the time seven-thirty had passed it was far too late to casually check if Derek was still coming or not.

Once nine-thirty had passed Stiles accepted that he was stood up. Derek wasn’t coming. He wasn’t going to call or text with a reason.

Stiles was just going to finish his now warm fourth beer and go to bed.

Stiles wasn’t sure what time the quiet knock came at his door but drowsy from reading on his phone in bed he shuffled in just his oversized pj pants to answer it. He didn’t remember to think about all the recent incidents that might mean he should have gotten his gun out before answering the door half naked in the dark.

He didn’t think it would be Derek either. He didn’t remember to think about being stood up or to be angry at the man.

But thats who was standing before the bounty hunter dressed in that absurdity of a leather jacket. The bright lighting of the hallway blinded Stiles after the peaceful dark of his apartment. He squinted up at the other man who raised an arm to brace himself against the door jab while lifting fingers up to brush his cheek.

Derek posed like a wet dream come to life however he looked wrecked like a drowning man grasping at straws to keep afloat.

“I’m late.” The statement whispered into the space between them as Derek’s thumb started to trace circles across Stiles’ cheekbone while his fingertips cradled the back of his head.

Stiles hummed low in his throat unsure if he should reply to the hesitant words.

The thumb didn’t stop its slow hypnotic movement as the soft pressure from Derek’s fingers swayed stiles closer to the open doorway. The man couldn’t help but watch entranced in the moment as the detectives teeth bit down on his lower lip.

He was so entranced by the movement that he almost didn’t hear the next tentative question.

“Am I too late?”

There was no way Stiles could answer that question without digging deep and admitting to Derek more than he wanted to: he already knew it would never be too late where the detective was concerned and he knew without a doubt that he hated himself a little for not being able to give up.

He couldn’t answer that question without admitting he was irrevocably in love with the same man he’d been in love with for as long as he could remember. So he did the only thing he could think to do to stop the blind panic tearing his heart apart: he pushed himself forward against the other man, the earthy smell of leather and sweat filling his senses and dragged Derek into his dark apartment.

—-

The morning after; honestly not historically the best day for Stiles but even with the teenage crush who shipped out to join the navy, a Vegas wedding and all the awkward one night stands he’d collected the man could already say this one would take the cake and his eyes had only been open for a few seconds.

It should have been different waking up after such a mind blowing amazing night. There should be slow kisses and exploring new territory in the early morning light. Instead Stiles stares at his hand stretched across the empty bed, feeling the cold sheets and sighs to himself too disappointed to be angry.

Shuffling through his apartment to make sure it was as empty as he though, empty of the strewn clothes from the night before, the bounty hunter flicks off a quick text while watching the coffee machine come slowly to life.

_We didn’t end up talking_.

It wasn’t until he was ready to leave to start his day by hunting down a box of doughnuts and maybe an FTA that his phone vibrated with a reply.

_We’ll talk later Stiles I’m busy_


	6. Batman

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Stiles is badass and it shows.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is up way earlier than it was going to be as a thank you to the people who took time to comment on this story ❤️ Honestly you all make me believe I can write the story I’m trying to tell ❤️

“I just don’t fucking understand him! He’s hot and cold then blames it on me!” Stiles exclaimed take a sip from his coffee and wishing for something stronger; he didn’t remember why he decided to spill his life’s secrets and frustrations to an FTA at a bustling coffee shop but he did know the woman made it damn easy. “I get it though, with the whole I almost died thing but I didn’t!”

“Well what do you want from him?” Hazel pulls out a flask, steals Stiles’ cup and topping it up and returning the bounty hunters now Irish coffee.

Fuck Stiles wanted to be Hazel when he grew up.

“I dunno I just want to wake up next to his dumb face forever.” Stiles muttered looking down at his drink. Even if it wasn’t a dumb face but actually the most beautiful face he’d ever seen; with cute bunny teeth, stubble his fingers itched to play with and the kindest eyes he could just loose himself in. “Even when he pisses me off, I want to marry his dumb face. What should I do Hazel?”

“Well my advice might be a little biased where husbands are involved but then again, I killed mine,” The older woman stood draining her drink in a swift practiced move. “Honey if you love him tell him and if he cheats kill ‘im.”

“Just remember heart conditions and Viagra don’t mix unless you want them to,” with that parting shot the woman flicked a quick salute and slipped through the morning crowd and out the front door before the bounty hunter could comment.

“Fuck,” he drained his cup ignoring the almost too hot liquid and alcoholic burn. What was he supposed to do with that information? Picking up the empty cups he also pocketed the flask Hazel had left on the counter.

——

Coming into the office after lunch the next day Isaac glanced up when stiles entered.

“Ah Stiles. The Bezzler file is closed; she passed away last night.”

“What? What happened?”

“Nothing happened Stiles she was like a hundred. She passed away in her sleep.” Isaac looked up from his paperwork and shared a sympathetic smile. “I know Scott said you guys got along but it happens. Especially with how old she was.”

“She was only eighty-nine!” Stiles exclaimed voice becoming higher pitched as he tried to figure out how he felt about this information.

“Unfortunately you won’t get the payout on this one but it wasn’t a big one anyway.” Isaac said a hand out for the file. He was big on not wasting the office supplies.

Stiles dug out the file from his bag and handed it over.

“Yeah I’m just gonna go bring in Barnes.” Stiles muttered turning back around.

“Alright but Peter has said you have to catch up on your paperwork today. You’re a month behind Stiles.” Isaac called out as Stiles headed for the door. The bounty hunter waved a hand in acknowledgment before closing the door.

——

James Barnes was a slick, violent and charming asshole. The first time Stiles had gone after him the man had said his name was Steve and they’d slept together. The next day when Stiles picked up the photo of his FTA, he’d seduced his way back into the man’s house and brought him in wearing only his tighty-whities. Not that he’d been embarrassed by that the man was built like a GQ model. Funnily enough he never told anyone they’d slept together but he taunted Stiles subtly at every opportunity. The next time Stiles had gone after him the bounty hunter has gotten shot at and had his nose broken but he’d still managed to bring Barnes in.

Today his file held charges for possession of a concealed weapon, aggravated assault and possession of illegal substances. The write up said he’d been caught selling drugs and beat the crap out of the guy who’d ratted him out. Barnes was a tad unpredictable and held a grudge like no one’s business.

Parking in the parking lot behind the man’s apartment building Stiles geared up. Most of his FTAs where small time petty crime stuff. Barnes was on another level and the bounty hunter enjoyed the challenge.

He attached holders and pouches to his belt and removed his normal plaid flannel replacing it with a padded black jacket. He patted each object again to confirm he had everything: gun, cuffs, pepper spray, stun gun, mag light and extra cuffs because it helped to be prepared for the absolute worst where Barnes was concerned. That way Stiles was only surprised half the time.

On the previous couple of captures, the bounty hunter had brought Barnes in the felon had acted in a ‘aw shucks you got me’ good humoured attitude once he was in cuffs however Stiles had been told enough stories by the arresting officers that he knew to be wary of the man who became physically violent on multiple occasions. Stalking up the path along the side of the building Stiles pulled out two keys he’d liberated a while ago and kept of a key ring of similar keys all with their own vague tags in the office. Being prepared always made the difficult FTAs that much easier to deal with. And it was only really illegal if anyone knew about it. Which probably only Peter did.

The hallways of the building were empty but that wasn’t such a surprise considering it was only just past lunch. Barnes lived on the fifth floor in a small two-bedroom apartment which he hadn’t moved from in the two years since stiles had visited the first time. Taking the elevator up the young man watched himself in the reflective metal of the doors. The indistinguishable figure armed and all in black looked like the kind of person to avoid tangling with and Stiles felt an almost feral smile stretch across his face as he settled into the calm void of emotion that he operated in with the dangerous FTAs.

Knocking on the door Stiles immediately stepped back a few paces. Waiting he hesitated for a minute then slipped the keys and used the second one to open the door.

“Damn James you should lock your door,” Stiles called out as he pocketed the keys again and palmed his taser. “Anybody could walk in off of the street.”

A quick glance around the beautifully modern open plan kitchen/dinning/lounge gave easy confirmation that the section of the apartment was empty.

Looking at the three remaining doors Stiles approached the one that had held Barnes’s bedroom. Easing the door open he slipped inside eyes scanning the messy room and quickly deciding that this room too was uninhabited. At least by a human; he wasn’t so sure if what was in the cup counted as a living organism yet. It looked like it did.

Suppressing a shudder, the bounty hunter eased back into the main room eyes flicking around the open space again looking for anything out of place as he moved towards the second door.

Before his fingers could touch the door handle a quiet noise caught his attention. Heart pounding the bounty hunter reached again for the door handle but just as his fingers brushed against the cool metal the door was ripped inward and a body hurled out.

Winded, flat on his back from the unexpected weight, Stiles staredfirst at the passive unconscious face of the man who had been unceremoniously used to put him out of commission then over his shoulder at the man who put him there. Sweeping his shoulder length dark hair back in a ponytail the man smirked teasingly before stepping over the heaped bodies and sauntering further into the apartment.

Stiles struggled to free his arm to make a desperate grab at Barnes as he went past.

_Why am I not surprised?_ The bounty hunter thought to himself. _Oh yeah. That’s because this shit always happens to me._

Twisting Stiles pushed the unconscious man half off of himself and wriggled out from under his body quickly grabbing his neck to feel his pulse. Alive but heavy as hell. The man could stand to lose a couple of thousand doughnuts.

Springing to his feet the bounty hunter pounded after his fugitive grappling the man against the couch which didn’t work out too well as Barnes shifted his weight and flipped them over. .

“Well hello again Stiles,” The man practically purred hands trailing up the bounty hunters’ arms to grasp both his wrists above his head his own weight holding Stiles down against the cushions. “As much as I love you in this position I really have to run: I’ve got a very important meeting that I simply can’t miss.”

There was a quiet second ended by the distinct metallic click of handcuffs.

“What the hell Barnes?” Stiles yelled as the man sprung from the couch, saluted jauntily and threw himself out the window and slamming it shut behind himself as he disappeared downwards.

Stiles struggled to his feet dashing across the room to follow the man out the window. It was harder than he’d think it would be to open the window with his wrists handcuffed together but he managed it quickly enough that Barnes was still pounding down the fire escape.

The bounty hunter gave chase practically throwing himself down the steep steps, keeping an eye on the man he was following, his chest burning in a desperate bid to draw breath as he hit the second level. Between one moment and the next sharp pain radiated from his cuffed wrists as his feet slid out from underneath him causing the bounty hunter to frantically reach for the railing instinctively to keep himself upright rubbing his wrists raw and no doubt leaving bruises that’ll be hard to explain.

Especially considering the circumstances. 

Lifting his body up and stumbling down the last flight of stairs the bounty hunter hit the gravel of the car park with a frustrated hiss; Barnes was nowhere in sight.

“Shit,” the word was more of a huffed groan than anything else. There was no telling where the man had gone in those precious moments of distraction when the bounty hunters’ eyes weren’t tracking his every movement. Resigning himself Stiles trudged over to his car eyes still flicking around the area at the back of the building for any sign of his fugitive.

Stiles could hear police sirens in the front parking lot; swearing profusely to himself he tugged his car keys from one of the pouches on his belt and unlocked his car sliding into the passenger’s seat, once in and mostly out of view he opened the glove compartment and retrieved a spare key and began unlocking his cuffs. Because they were his handcuffs which Barnes had liberated from his back pocket without Stiles realising.

_Quick fingered bastard,_ he thought with wry resignation. He really should have been paying better attention.

Leaving the car and tugging his jacket over his belt Stiles walked casually back towards the rear entrance to the building and headed for the lift; ahead he could see the deputies speaking in low voices to an elderly woman near the mail boxes in the lobby area. Which was fancy name for such a dingy interior.

He pressed the button and rocked on his heels for all purposes a man just waiting to get home and no one of any interest at all. Once the lift arrived the doors sliding clankingly open, he slipped inside and pressed the button to immediately close the doors turning his face away from what he was sure was a familiar face in uniform. The last thing he needed was a worried deputy reporting back to his dad and feeding the gossip. Plus, he knew there were all sorts of bets on him and he’d hate to give the wrong person an advantage.

Returning to Barnes’s front door he found it still ajar so he pulled his Maglite out weighing the heavy tool in his palm in case someone inside needed their brains rearranged.

Creeping forward and quietly closing the door behind him stiles could see the man who had been thrown at him still on the floor; although now the man was stirring groggily.

Holstering the heavy torch the bounty hunter moved forward with swift confident steps and quickly, with an ease that belied any idea of inefficiency or unfamiliarity, handcuffed the man’s hands behind his back and turned his body to sit him propped up again the now closed door pulling the coffee table to sit a little ways in front of the captive.

Going to the kitchen Stiles filled a jug he found with water from the tap and returned dumping its contents over the man’s head jerking him to consciousness with the sudden onslaught.

The bounty hunter took a seat on the edge of the coffee table schooling his features in the carefully blank countenance of the truly threatening and pulled out his gun with careful hands. There was only a single bullet in the gun and Stiles was, as always, half terrified of actually having use it on someone but he knew the effect a confident hand on a firearm could have in intimidating someone he wanted answers from.

The unnamed man spluttered when the water hit and was slowly coming around as the bounty hunter arranged himself. The man’s short blonde hair lay flat against his fair skin as the ward drilled from his chin; the overall effect was pretty pathetic.

“Who- who are you?” He stammered eyes going wide at the sight before him. “Where’s Jimmy? I ain’t telling you cops nothin.”

“Lucky for you I am not a cop,” Stiles smiled knowing he’d yet again adopted the blank countenance of his dangerous persona. “And lucky for me you are going to tell me everything.”

The man shuddered seemingly without realising and pushed himself back against the door.

“Where’s Jimmy?” He asked again eyes farting around the room as if he’d missed seeing the man.

“James Barnes is...” Stiles trailed off eyes flickering down to the drawn gun in his lap. “Not here.” He finished with another razor smile. “And since Jimmy isn’t here you will have to help me.”

The man’s eyes opened even wider in shocked horror. Whatever story he’d concocted in his mind was worse than anything Stiles could have told him. The best way to intimidate someone was to let them scare themselves.

“What do you need?” The man whispered eyes glued to the gun.

“Jimmy had a meet up today I need to know when and where. That is all.” Stiles stood arm holding the gun loose at his side. “Tell me and I will leave.”

The man squeaked in abject terror nodding his head furiously.

“It was with the south side crew. He’s hooking them up with the stuff they need. The south side guys. No names though. Guns and drugs. He says it’ll put him out of the game for a good while. At five. Just the normal stuff I swear.” The man rushed to explain himself tripping over his words and repeating himself in his haste. “At that Speedy’s cafe. Behind the cafe at five. That’s all I know!” The man had tears and snot rolling down his face unchecked “Please don’t kill me!”

“Oh, I’m not going to kill you,” Stiles moved forward squatting directly in front of the man bringing the gun up to rest on his knee while his other hand hung limb by his belt. He kept his voice smooth and calm enunciating his words carefully. “Next time you see Jimmy just tell him Steve says ‘Hello’”

While he was talking Stiles had pulled out and armed his stun gun unnoticed by the blubbering mess of a criminal, bringing it up to press against the man’s thigh holding it on for a few seconds. The man immediately yelped and fell forward twitching and dazed. Quickly he released the cuffs, pocketed them and strode for the door. Sure, he felt bad for stun gunning the guy who’d only just regained consciousness but he also needed to make sure his absolute fury would be shared over to Barnes if he failed to capture him tonight.

——

The sun was hanging low in the sky as Stiles lay on the low overhanging eaves behind Speedy’s cafe. He’d chosen the spot on a whim once he’d realised he could lay down and be completely hidden.

He’d been laying there picking at the bandages he’d hastily wrapped around the raw skin of his wrists when the first voices began to speak. Quickly he realised the second party had arrived early. They were waiting on Barnes showing up and it was still fifteen minutes until the meet up time. He wondered if nameless man had scared Barnes off. Nah Barnes always liked to live up to the ‘good looking risk taking’ rep. 

Realising he was about to jump down on a drug and gun deal with some pretty shitty people solo Stiles pulled out his phone making sure it was still on silent and the vibration turned off.

He flicked out a quick text; _hey you’re detective for the whole gang/drugs deal yeah?_

_What have you done now stiles?_ Came the fast reply. His phone rang almost immediately and he dismissed the call.

_I can’t talk_ , he wrote with lightning quick fingers. _But I’m staking out to catch an FTA behind Speedy’s cafe and turns out the people he’s meeting are from “south side” and it’s a gun/drug deal._

_Thought you might like an invite to the party before I crash it._

_Heads up though you’ve probably got twenty since my guy isn’t here yet._

The bounty hunter checked the brightness on his phone in the darkening sky to make sure it wouldn’t give him away and held it against his leg where he’d see it light up when a message came in.

_We’ll be in position in ten. Don’t get yourself killed. Wait for me_.

The men that had already gathered were talking amongst themselves in casually hushed voices; anyone more than a metre away wouldn’t be able to hear them. Fortunately for the bounty hunter they had decided to position themselves directly beneath his hiding spot.

Despite knowing that the men below him would all be more than likely armed better than most military personnel the minutes ticked by calmly as Stiles decide to imaging all of the energetic, sweaty and downright nasty things he and Derek could be doing if the detective decided to get his cute head out of his ridiculously fantastic looking behind and stick around for five minutes after kissing him.

Checking his phone again he saw another message had arrived a minute before.

_Where are you Stiles?_

_In position. Now hush my guy isn’t here yet._

_Where stiles? We’ve got visual on five men three known gangsters._

_Well aim higher._

_STILES WHAT THE FUCK ARE YOU DOING UP THERE??_

_ANSWER ME STILES OR IM COMING IN RIGHT THIS SECOND!_

_calm down dude. I’m in position to capture my fugitive. Plus, I invited you to this party so wait for my signal._

_And what signal will that be?_

_You’ll know it when you see it just be ready._

_A man with a bag incoming._

_Once I’m on him you’re free to go._

Stiles didn’t message anymore or look at his phone. Instead he opened the memo app and started a recording; hoping to catch some of the conversation below him.

He waited as they discussed product and payment, as they named mutual friends who vouched for the other and then once Stiles watching the reflection in a window across the alley saw Barnes handing over a duffle bag and accepting one in return he sprang into action, more literally rolling into action, as he rolled himself to the edge of the overhang and kicking off launched himself through the air to land half on top of Barnes pushing the man face first into the garbage and dirt floor of the alleyway.

Using the precious seconds where everyone stood frozen in shock, the bounty hunter dragged the man’s arms behind his back-snapping cuffs on Barnes and rocking a glance over at the gangsters.

He watched as they suddenly registered what was going down and immediately began to split off running down the different alleyways.

Stiles knew enough to know that Derek would have people stationed at end exit ready to capture the people trying to escape. All that mattered to Stiles was the fugitive trapped between his thighs.

Pulling out his phone Stiles stopped recording and glanced at a message he’d received and laughed happily.

_Don’t do anything stupid_ was Derek’s last message to him that must have arrived seconds before he’d leapt into action. Literally.

Looking around Stiles could see the man in question striding forward issuing rapid fire commands into a radio while his eyes stayed trained on the bounty hunter he was fast approaching.

“Hi,” Stiles grinned at him still kneeling on Barnes’s back. “Fancy meeting you here.”

“Stiles,” Derek huffed out a half laugh that for him was admitting to loving Stiles’ side splitting humour and reached out a hand. “Are you ok? That was...” he trailed off frowning.

“Brilliant?” Stiles supplied helpfully, since the detective seemed at a loss for words, taking his hand and standing.

“Fucking badass,” Erica suggested coming up beside them.

“Ridiculous,” Boyd murmured as he helped a dazed Barnes to his feet.

“Dangerously sexy,” Barnes offered with a wink looking a little worse for wear and earning himself a cuff across the ear from Erica as she and Boyd lead him away.

“You know I’m going to need a body receipt for him,” Stiles calls to their retreating backs as he stares at the man in front of him. “So how were you going to finish that sentence Detective Hale.” The last words were whispered against the man’s lips as Stiles, running on adrenaline, moved himself into the other man’s space.

“Stupid. Reckless.” Derek’s hands grazed Stiles’ face before cupping it and bringing their lips even closer. “Hot. As. Fuck.”

The last three words were growled against the bounty hunters’ lips and Derek brought their faces together closing the last-minute space between them; their lips danced together, tongues flicking and breath mingling. A breathless gasp escaped from Stiles as his heart raced against his rib cage pounding a steady tattoo against the bone.

Rough hands pushed him back, feet uncoordinated, stumbling until his back hit the brick wall of the building behind him. Teeth scraped across the bounty hunters’ lips at the impact but instead of fear or pain his body responded with delight. He groaned as desire swirled inside building a tidal wave that threatened to drown them both under earthly carnal needs.

Pushing his hips against Derek’s searching for any kind of friction he could feel that they were matched for excitement which sent a pulse of need and want through the man.

The crackling of the radio somehow still held in Derek’s hand beside Stiles’ head jerked them both back from the brink of doing something very private in a very public situation. Derek practically threw himself away backpedalling to press his back against the opposite wall of the alleyway. Admittedly this only gave them a scant two meters between their bodies but as the cold air rushed in the quell the burning desire it could as well have been ten.

“Report,” Derek’s gravelly voice snapped at the radio, he listened intently then replied in a quiet murmur.

“Mr. Stilinski,” The bounty hunters head snapped up at his name to find the detective watching him with careful eyes. “I’ll need you come to the station and give a statement of what happened.

Stiles swallowed past the hard lump in his throat; they had the unbelievably hot followed by the I-don’t-actually-like-you cold.

“Also, we need to talk,” Derek shuffles awkwardly twirling the radio in his hands; not that Stiles notices considering he’s completely shocked at this change in behaviour. “I think we need to talk about what this is before we do something...” again he trailed off unable to find the words.

Luckily in this instance it was adorably endearing causing Stiles to come to his rescue.

“Stupid? Reckless?” He promoted with an easy teasing grin. “Something like last week?”

They shared a soft look loaded with the kinds of feelings that had teenagers writing angst poetry and middle-aged mums talking about ‘a new lease on life’ for the two of them it meant they understood at least a little. And that was enough for now.

——

The process of giving a statement and sending over his voice recording as evidence took just as long as signing off on all the paperwork. Luckily Stiles was accompanied by Erica since technically he was a civilian in this situation since bounty hunters worked slightly outside the police parameters. No matter that he knew the station better than most of the people working there.

Working through paperwork alongside Erica was an exercise in amusement and an education in swearing: the woman hated paperwork. She swore about the date, the location and every time she had to rewrite something. Stiles had never known anyone else to construct a sentence with ‘fuck’ as every second word and still make perfect sense.

It got even better once Stiles had finished signing his portion of paperwork and relaxed back in his chair drinking his coffee; the deputy turned glowering eyes filled with spite on him and said the single most beautiful sentence he had ever heard:

“Damn buggering shit fuck,” the words escaped in a soft exhale. It amused the bounty hunter because it wasn’t even yelled or growled. Just a defeated sigh. “Why are you done already? I just want to be fucking finished. I’m so done.” The woman slid forward until her forehead was resting on the pile of paperwork waiting to be started. “I’ve filled out the date four time on this fucking form alone.” Erica began to slowly bang her head against the table. “Four times!”

“Well you look like you’re about to have a breakdown so I’m gonna go get you some more coffee,” The bounty hunter slid out of the conference room they’d claimed for the mess of paperwork.

Making his way to the break room Stiles helped himself to the coffee machine and left holding three of the paper cups. Knocking on the door marked ‘Sheriff’ the man handed one cup off to his dad, who waved motioning to the phone he was talking on, before rummaging in the bottom drawer and stealing the packet of chocolate biscuits he’d know would be stashed there.

Ignoring his fathers annoyed huff the bounty hunter practically skipped back down the hallway hands full of goodies. It was gratifying to hear the absolutely pornographic moan coming from the woman’s mouth as he sat the cup of coffee down in front of Deputy Reyes; it became frankly embarrassing when she declared her undying love upon presenting the chocolate cookies.

“Stiles I don’t care if you like guys,” she whispered earnestly grabbing his shoulders and shaking him softly. “Marry me.”

“Sorry not sorry,” he laughed slipping from her grasp and collapsing in his chair. “Only one failed marriage before forty. That’s my rule.”

“I’m offended you think we’d fail Batman.” The Deputy scoffed returning to her seat with coffee in hand.

“Well it’s doomed to since we’re both in love with other people.” He replied flicking through his pile of forms to check if he missed anything. When Erica didn’t reply he looked at her raising a questioning eyebrow at her flushed face. “What? Was that supposed to be a secret?”

“Yes!” She hissed at him face turning a deeper red.

“Well I thought he knew,” he waved a hand at her. “Considering all the flirting you do when him? Plus it’s not like he can hear us here.”

The woman’s face started to turn a mottled red/white colour as she stuttered frazzled. There was a quiet knock on the door which opened immediately to admit the man in question followed by Derek.

“Hey guys! Fancy meeting you here!” Stiles called out grinning like a lunatic.

“Are you finished filling out your forms?” Derek asked leaving against the doorframe instead of entering after Boyd.

“Why? Do you wanna whisk me away?” The bounty hunter picked up his coffee and moved to stand in front of the detective.

“Something like that,” he snorted in reply. He motioned down the hall with a jerk of his head. His ridiculously good looking head. “C’mon. Boyd can help Erica file those.”

Stiles grabbed a cookie and waggled his eyebrows suggestively at the two, he knew he was weird but it worked for him, before trotting down the hallway after the retreating back and tight pants of Detective Hale.

Entering Derek’s office Stiles put his coffee down on the man’s desk and slouched in the visitors chair.

“So what did you want to talk about because I feel like that ‘we need to talk’ sentence is a guillotine hanging over the heads of everyone who hears it. And if this is a conversation that I need a drink for I’d rather we did it at my apartment,” Stiles knew he was babbling but that’s what he did when he was nervous about being dumped by someone he really likes before they even start dating. Well this was a first but it stood to reason it was a normal reaction.

“I just wanted to talk about what you did today Stiles,” Derek sat on the edge of his desk in front of the other man, arms crossed over his chest and face pulled into a tight, not at all attractive, frown. “It was really dangerous.”

“But also awesome,” Stiles joked nervously. “You have to admit it was a pretty cool move. Erica thinks I’m Batman now.”

“Do you even realise how dangerous that was Stiles?” Derek growled, actually growled out the words in a deep gravelly voice. “If we hadn’t arrived you would have been throwing yourself into a situation you couldn’t control. You could have gotten hurt!”

“Yes but you did arrive,” Stiles could feel all nervousness and teasing leave him as he tensed. “Because I was courteous enough to let you in.”

“Catching gangsters and arms dealers is my job Stiles,” Derek uncrossed his arms pointing at himself then poking the other man in the chest. “Not yours.”

The bounty hunter looked down at the digit still hovering in front of his chest.

“Did you just..?” He raised his gaze to glare at the detective. “Don’t you ever poke me like that again you condescending asshole.” Stiles could feel his voice turning hard and dark with anger. “Catching Barnes is my fucking job.”

“Well your job is dangerous,” the detective raised his hand to run it through his hair. “I don’t like it.”

“I’m sorry,” Standing Stiles found his voice becoming quiet and calm. “I forgot the part where you have a say in what I do.”

“That’s not what I meant,” Derek frowned at the other man making an aborted move to reach for him. “I just- it shouldn’t be this difficult!”

“What shouldn’t?”

“Every time we get a call from you something’s blown up or on fire and one day the call will be from someone else and you’ll be dead.”

“What’re you saying?

“You make me so,” Derek looks away searching for the words “-scared and anxious sometimes all I want to do is find you and make sure you’re safe but instead your job includes throwing yourself into the middle of an arms deal.”

“My job is important to me,” Stiles replied through gritted teeth. He didn’t know where this conversation was going but it didn’t feel like anywhere good.

“You’re just a bounty hunter Stiles!”

“Just-? Fuck you it’s more than just my job!”

“Well you’re going to get yourself killed!”

All sound seemed to hush in the burning roil of Stiles’ mind as the nervous flutters in his stomach became a sickening clench in his heart. “I thought we had the same idea where we were going and this isn’t the conversation I imagined us having.”

“I didn’t want it to turn out like this Stiles, please you have to believe me,” Derek raised a hesitant hand to the other man’s cheek cradling his face gently.

“I’m not going to change who I am just to be with you,” Stiles leant into the touch.

“And I can’t be with you if you’re just going to get yourself killed.” Derek’s hand dropped from Stiles’ face.


	7. Matching Halves

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Something catches on fire and there’s a box from the bakery. But this is Stiles so that’s nothing new.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ❤️ Biggest thank you to everyone reading this and again thank you to everyone taking the time to comment ❤️

Leaving the station it was still too early to call it quits even though the sun had gone down already the agitated bounty hunter hadn’t really accomplished anything. Stiles made his way to the empty Werewolf Bonds office; he’d leave his body receipt in Issac’s tray to process tomorrow and catch up on that paperwork before Peter busted something from stress.

The office was a single story office storefront along a sidewalk filled with similar office store fronts all dark and empty so long past the end of the normal work day. Stiles unlocked the door slipping inside and locking it behind himself. The quiet was blessedly soothing after the adrenaline filled day he’d had so far.

He wanted quiet and monotonous after the abrupt and heart wrenching end to his conversation with Derek.

Settling himself down with the stacks of files the bounty hunter realised he’d put it off for far too long: it would take all night to complete the backlog. Sighing he took out the first file and decided he’d better make some kind of start. Even if it was going to take all day tomorrow to finish.

The man pulled out the first page and began looking over the forms inside to report what had happened. He glanced at the top of the file. It was dated three months ago. Oops.

Banging his head against the desk Stiles put the file to the bottom of the pile and tried again. Ah Jane Kirk that’s someone he could always trust to be straightforward; she’d always go with him if he bought her lunch. He quickly flicked through the pile finding the rest of Kirks FTA files for the last couple of months. Nine.

You had to admire her dedication. The bounty hunter dug out the flask he’d somehow not gotten around to getting rid of out of his messenger bag. Taking a sip his face scrunched up in horror. It tasted like five kinds of spirits mixed together and none of them he’d usually drink.

“Yucky Hazel,” taking a deep breath to stop himself from crying the bounty hunter took another smaller sip; he’d known the woman his whole life in the odd way people in towns pass in the periphery of daily life. He’d always smiled and said hello to be polite. He didn’t know her. He hadn’t wanted to know her until she became an FTA; he liked to think he knew the best of her in the last couple of weeks but in all honestly he didn’t know her but he wouldn’t ever forget her either.

“Fuck,” The bounty hunter steadied a hand against the desktop breathing in to a count of ten and out to eight until he felt the grief ebb away. He picked up a pen and moved back to work.

Stiles hit a flow of taking sips from the flask and writing whatever shit came to his head over the capture of FTAs. The interruption of his phone ringing jolted him out of the meditative state of one who hates something he has to get done.

When he saw the caller ID the bounty hunters heart plummeted.

“Hey Derek what’s up?” He answered, voice falsely cheerful, cradling the phone against his shoulder.

“I don’t like how we left things: can we talk?”

“Uh yeah course.” Stiles bit his lip nervously. “I’m, Uh, at the office if you wanna pick me up? I’ve had a couple of drinks and probably shouldn’t drive. We can go to mine?”

“I’ll be there in ten.” The call disconnected abruptly.

“Shit.” Stiles took another larger sip from the Hazel’s concoction and smacked his head down on the desk staring at the silver flask. “Well Hazel I’m doing the thing. I’m going to talk to him like an adult about emotions and expectations.” He pokes the metal making the flask wobble.

Sighing and stacking his files neatly he decided to grab his jacket out of his car before Derek arrived so he’d be ready to go.

Stepping outside he left the door unlocked and beeped his car open. He didn’t really look up until he was at the door hand raised to grasp the handle. A very manly squeak escaped as he saw someone sitting in the driver’s seat. For a moment he panicked and started apologising thinking he’d gotten the wrong car and had scared the poor lady.

Glancing quickly around at the empty parking lot he swallowed against the tightness in his throat; this was his car and there was someone staring at him from inside. Someone vaguely familiar.

Except she wasn’t staring at him. Her eyes lacked the focus and movement of a person observing someone.

Stepping closer the bounty hunter recognised the woman from the photos he’d been given with her file. Sam Moore. Glancing down he could see where he torso ended on a cardboard box, he barely noticed the flickering flames in his disgust. Backpedaling he rushed past the office door and threw up in the alleyway that separated their office from the next one.

Wiping a shaking hand across his face Stiles called Derek.

“Stiles?” The call was answered immediately.

“I get it now. I wouldn’t want to be with me either.”

“Stiles? What’s going on?” Even over the static of hands free calling the concern in Derek’s voice came across clearly. Stiles knew he was acting like an over dramatic hormonal teenager but like all hormonal teenagers he felt like he had a fucking good reason.

“I blew up another car; actually it’s on fire, but I’m sure it’ll explode at some point.” The disconnected way the words found their way out of his mouth sounded hollow but Stiles couldn’t muster the effort to care. “Also, I found the rest of Sam Moore’s body. Which is in my car. On fire.”

“What the fuck Stiles?” Stiles realised he had barely ever heard Derek swear outside of their conversations but he always did bring out that reaction in people.

“At least both halves will match now?” The bounty hunter offered kicking the curb; it was morbid and fucking inappropriate but there was also half a dead body in his car. “Actually, you know what? I want no part in this. I’m going back into the office. You do your cop thing.”

“Fuck Stiles,” he could hear the sigh that heaved from Derek.

“Nope I’m done with today; my official report is that I came out to my car and there was a body in the front seat. A fire had started somewhere I couldn’t see it on the floor getting bigger in the five minutes I was staring at the fucking severed corpse, I threw up and I called you. Now I’m out.”

“Stiles- “

“No Derek. This is fucked up.” Stiles marched his way back into the shop front leaving the door unlocked and made his way into Peters office grabbing his files and flask from Isaac’s desk on his way past. “I’m going to be doing paperwork in your uncles office. Come get me when it’s over or send dad. Only once it’s all over. Now go do your cop stuff.”

Stiles hung up the phone, locked the door and slammed his body in Peters plush chair. In normal circumstances he would question what activities Peter carried out in his chair but tonight Stiles was done with anything that wasn’t paperwork or alcoholic.

He shot a quick text to his dad: _alive and hiding from reality in Peters office. Take me home when everything’s done and I’ll deal with the crap tomorrow._

He almost immediately received a call which would have impressed him considering it was bordering on three am except he knew Derek would have called the Sheriff as soon as Stiles hung up. He hit ignore and set up his automatic reply to calls _alive, unharmed and safe_ , set his phone to busy then started on his flask.

——

In the next hour he missed over a dozen calls, watched the deputies arrive and Derek knocking on the office door over Peters frankly invasive CCTV feed. Which the cops probably needed access to for the investigation but Stiles couldn’t bring himself to care. He’d emptied his flask about ten minutes ago and had finished a good chunk of his paperwork so he contented himself watching the security feed.

Up until he saw Peter stalk in like an irate rooster trailed by Derek who obviously had called his uncle to get into his office.

The bounty hunter didn’t bother to muster the energy to worry as he watched his boss pull out his keys and unlock the door, he did however raise a surprised eyebrow when, in a swift manoeuvre, Peter slipped into the office slamming the door shut in Derek’s face and re-locked it.

“Damn Stiles you look like shit,” The man said turning hands on hips to assess his employee.

“And you look,” Stiles squinted at Peter Hale dresses in tight grey slacks, matching vest, tie and a crisp white collared shirt. “You look hot as fuck.”

“Why Stiles are you hitting on me?” Peter chuckled smiling his crooked devils grin, eyes twinkling with amusement.

“No.” The bounty hunter replied pointing an unsteady finger at the man. “It’s three am you aren’t allowed to look like that. Fucking Hales.”

The man laughed easily enough and for once stiles didn’t feel like the butt of the joke but a part of it. Unusual for Peter. Unheard of even.

“How drunk are you Stiles?” Peter made his way around the desk eyes flicking between the man in his chair, the CCTV and the flask sitting in the crook of Stiles’ arms.

“Not enough,” The practically almost sober man flicked the flask with lazy hand. “I’m out.”

Peter hummed agreement at that.

Stiles watched with hazy curiosity as Peter crouched down beside him and instead of opening one of the three drawers down the left side the older man reacted in for the hidden clasp and pulled back the disguised door to reveal a hidden mini fridge.

“Fuck me,” Peter glanced over with another amused smile at the exclamation.

Within ten minutes the man had made them both drinks and downloaded the nights footage onto a USB drive. Opening the office door, he handed the USB to Derek who had been standing outside the door waiting with a few whispered words of a heated argument. It ended quickly enough with Peter returning to slouch into the visitor’s chair.

Time and half a bottle of scotch went by before either of them decided to speak. Stiles would have thought Peter would be too curious to hold his tongue however it was Stiles himself who finally broke the tranquil silence.

“I love my job and I’m actually pretty good at it,” he murmured staring at the ceiling.

“One of the best I have but do go on,” Peter interrupted in a low even tone.

“Really? Huh,” Stiles snorted a huffed laugh to himself. “I’m good- I love it.”

Peter hummed a non-committal noise. It looked like he was actually acting like a friend, which wow craziest thing to happen all week. Stiles just needed someone to talk to and Peter was giving him a platform to speak.

“I’m so in love with Derek but he doesn’t wanna be with me because of my job but I fucking love my work.” Stiles drained his drink not even feeling the burn anymore which probably wasn’t the best sign. Peter matched his actions and filled them both up again. “An’ I shouldn’ be drinking so much but it’s been a fucked up few days, right? Right.”

“The thing is I need to quit pissing off gangsters, getting hurt over Derek and drinking.”

Fuck Stiles felt like he could cry and why was he pouring his heart out to Derek’s uncle? Worse why was Peter fucking Hale watching him with that solemn expression like he actually understood Stiles better than anyone and wasn’t judging him?

“I’m gonna avoid Greenberg like the fucking plague but I don’t think I have a choice in this. I’m not quitting my job I fucking love what I do.”

Stiles swallowed through the emotions threatening to choke and overwhelm him. He knew he wasn’t going to hold back the tears much longer but for some reason as much as an asshole Peter could be, he didn’t think it would be an issue between them. Something about sitting with someone at four in the morning drinking in the sunrise over a broken heart made some things easier.

“If Derek doesn’t want me for who I am I can’t change to be with him. I can’t be something I’m not.” The burning in his eyes and throat didn’t ease as the tears slid down his cheeks but something inside unclenched; for all the horrible things that had happened recently Derek was what hurt the most. “I can’t be a fuck buddy. I can’t be someone he comes to when he wants but runs away from when it gets hard. I need to have someone by my side.”

“Together or not at all.” The statement hurt. The words made something final and he didn’t know what it would be.

Peter continues to keep his silence and Stiles finds he has nothing left to say. His employer only broke the silence to make a call to Isaac and Scott to give them the day off leaving the two in almost perfect silence as the one bottle emptied and they opened another.

The day was a hours old and the sun up when the sheriff finally knocked on the door to take his absolutely wasted son home.

Standing next to his dad Stiles tries to find the words to thank Peter for what he had done but nothing seems good enough convey the enormity of his gratitude. Instead they part with his boss reeling him in. 

“I’m proud of you,” Peter finally whispered into his hair, arms wrapped around the younger man in an painfully tight embrace.

——

The best part about waking up hungover at his dads place after having found half a severed body left in his car the night before he was that Melissa was lovely. Actually honest to goodness a good person.

So when the sheriff decided it was time to drag his hungover son out of bed and into the shower before going to the station Melissa McCall, a goddess amongst mortals, greeted Stiles with a plate covered with Pancakes, bacon, syrup, strawberries and the biggest cup in the house filled with coffee.

He may have slightly cried a few manly tears but it was a reasonable reaction.Half because it was just so damn beautiful and half because Stiles was just so unused to these gestures that showed a mother’s love since Melissa respected the distance Stiles kept between the two after his own mother’s death.

Getting through breakfast and the amused knowing looks of his parental figures made the man feel like a teenager again. It wasn’t such a bad feeling; knowing you’re loved at your worst.

Heading into the station Stiles kept his head down as he was deposited with Erica to give his statement. There wasn’t much to it since he’d barely been outside for more than a few minutes and Peter had handed over the cctv footage already. Erica seemed to be amusing herself today by going over the questions multiple times until Stiles just wanted to bang his head against the desk.

Luckily he was saved before it got to that point. Unluckily it was Derek who saved him.

“Can I talk to you for a minute?” The Detective asked seating himself in the chair beside Stiles. He flicked a look to Erica who rolled her eyes and wandered off.

“Sure,” Stiles smiled at Derek because whatever meant they couldn’t be together didn’t mean that someday they couldn’t be friends. Someday far into the future. Like twenty years.

“Are you ok? After last night?”

“Well it was a bit more morbid than usual but it is what it is.” Shrugging Stiles looked away across the busy bullpen.

No one was looking at them but he could bet they were all listening. He had to wonder who’s side they take if everything devolved into blows, not that they would, but he could help think about it. Anyone who’d been with that station for more than a couple of years knew Stiles as the Sheriffs son and many had watched him grow up but Derek was one of their own and he knew how cops treated their own.

“What do you want Detective?” He dragged his attention back to Derek hating the man for looking so damn good all the time. Today he sat in front of the man who’s heart he’d broken the day before wearing a collared dress shirt in a soft mint that made the green of his eyes absolutely breathtaking. Fighting against the urge to hit something, or someone, Stiles kept his face smooth and calm. The mask of polite indifference.

“I just need to see that you’re ok Stiles,” Derek fidgets with a cuff not looking at the man in front of him. “I was worried about you.”

“No Derek what do you want,” he stressed the last word in a soft voice trying for moderate privacy. “You’re acting like we’re something and we’re not. You need to be clear here. Because I’m getting mixed signals.”

“We can’t be-“ He shoves upward suddenly and grabbing at the arms of the bounty hunters chair. “We can’t be together but that doesn’t mean I don’t care about you. It doesn’t mean I don’t love you Stiles.”

“No to the hell no.” Stiles stands forcing Derek to move backward or get head butted. Planting his hands on his hips Stiles glares at Derek feeling his heart hammering. He recognised the almost drunk feeling of his emotions taking control of his tongue but couldn’t find the energy to stop what he was going to say. “This isn’t healthy, or good enough, for either of us. I want you and us but I can only be a part of something with you if we’re on the same page.” He flicked a hand between the two of them gesturing. “We’re are either something or nothing. You have to accept what I do; I’m not going to quit and I’m not going to back down on being a bounty hunter. It’s what I love. But I also love youand I can only be with you if you want to be with me. Sincerely and as I am. Take some time and sort your feelings out. Then let me know. But I won’t wait forever.”

Watching the shocked and hurt expressions flicker across Derek’s face the detective gave no signs of wanting to say anything in reply so Stiles turned from the lost look on Derek’s face to see that almost every set of eyes in the bullpen were turned towards them watching the spectacle. Most turned away; embarrassed to be caught witnessing a private fight, some like Erica and Boyd stared right past the bounty hunter obviously supporting their friend.

“Ok guys I’m done being the dancing monkey today. Anyone needs me I’m sure they’ll find me.” With that declaration Stiles waved to his dad at the back of the room and marched out the hallways leading to the front entrance. He’d embarrassed himself enough for one day and wanted to home alone with ice cream before he started crying.

Grabbing his phone and flicking to his favourite contacts Stiles hit call on Scotty talking as soon as the other man picked up.

“Come pick me up. I’ll be leaving the station and heading down the street towards the office. I can’t stay here a second longer.”

“I’m on my way,” came the immediate reply with the sounds of muttered talking and movement. “What happened?”

“Derek tried to talk to me and I freaked out.” Stiles blew out a huff of air as he opened the front door to the station and trotted down the steps. He’d forgotten he was still hungover until the bright light burnt his eyes. Pulling on his sunglasses he turned down the street and kept walking. “I did a whole dramatic speech in front of the whole damn station about everything and pretty much put the ball in his court and he had nothing to say.”

“Shit.”

“Yeah I feel pretty damn shit right now.” The bounty hunter lifted his face to the sky wishing it would rain to hide the tears wetting his cheeks.

A car pulled up and Scott hung up the phone staring instead out of the window at his friend. There was understanding and compassion in his eyes but no pity. Stiles couldn’t stand when people pitied him and Scott never had even when his mom died.

“What did you want to do now?” Scott asked not yet moving the car. He was waiting for his friend to tell him what he needed. And Stiles knew the man would do damn near anything.

“Just drop me off at the office. I left my bag there last night and I should probably get back to work,” the car started to move and Stiles realised yet another thing he needed to do. “Actually I’ll need a lift to dads as well to pick up the Jeep. My car died.”

Scott snorted out a soft laugh.

“How long did this one last?” He asked eyes on the road.

“I think,” Stiles stopped and thought back to when everything had started to get so convoluted and confusing. It all started with the Moore case and he still hadn’t found Danny and figured out what started this whole thing. “It’s been a long month.”

Scott nodded as if he understood. It wasn’t the question he’d asked but he didn’t ask for anything else. Once the car pulled to a stop beside the burnt out wreckage of Stiles’ previous vehicle the two men made their way inside.

Isaac sat at the front desk typing out numbers with dizzying speed; he only looked up when the door closed behind the two and nothing was said.

“Hey there pretty office lady,” Stiles winked at the unimpressed man. “Have you seen my bag? I left it here last night.”

“You mean when you got shit faced drunk and left your paperwork all over my desk?” Issac replied lifting a condescending eyebrow.

“Uh yeah then,” Stiles shuffled his feet awkwardly then grinned. “Actually I was traumatised so I get a free pass on that!”

“Sure you do,” Isaac rolled his eyes then turned back to the computer screen. “The boss wants to see you.”

A week ago or even a day ago the idea would have creeped Stiles out or at the very least annoyed him with vague anxiety. After the night before he thought of Peter Hale in a different light; something had changed and he couldn’t put his finger on it but the man made more sense to the bounty hunter now.

Knocking on the door and entering the bounty hunter helped himself to the visitors chair noting the symmetry to the night before.

“My Stiles you positively look like hell,” The well groomed man commented smiling across the desk as if he was enjoying some private joke.

“And you look remarkably fresh for a man who was drinking in the sunrise only this morning,” Stiles returned causing Peter to let out a short laugh.

“Ah well,” Peter covered his smile with a manicured hand as he controlled his laughter. “I’ve just got good genetics I guess.” He said it like a joke and snickered to himself. If he didn’t look as put together as he did every other day Stiles would swear his boss was enjoying himself.

“Found a fountain of youth have you?”

“Only the map,” The man smirked.

“Sure crazy town.” Stiles dismissed the crazy with a lazy hand. “So why did you want to see me?”

“No reason really I just wanted to see that you were alright after last night,” with his employers pale blue eyes watching his every movement with predatory interest Stiles somehow felt reassured.

“I’m fine,” he immediately held up a hand. “Not actually but functionally.”

“Ok then,” Peter returned to his computer clearly and abruptly dismissing the man in front of him. “That will be all Mr. Stilinski.”

“A pleasure as always Mr. Hale.” The sarcastic comment didn’t cover the warmth in the bounty hunters tone but Stiles found he didn’t care to hide his new found fondness for his boss. He’d discovered Peter to be less of a sleezeball and more of a sarcastic asshole like himself.

Rejoining the two men in the front office Stiles noticed Scott frowning over a pink heart shaped card and Isaac looking similarly disturbed looking at a box from The Sugar & Spice Bakery.

“What’ve you got there?” The man asked approaching to look over his best friends shoulder. “Letter from a secret admirer Scotty?”

“Sort of. Just not mine,” the other man handed over the card.

Inside written in curling elegant font was the typed message:

_I find myself enamoured with playing with you._

_I realise you don’t understand the game but that makes the hunt so much more enjoyable for me._

_Maybe you’ll enjoy this gift as much as the last one._

Stiles flicked the card over trepidation squeezing his heart painfully. The pink heart shaped card could be benign enough even coupled with the cake box from his favourite bakery however the words set all of his nerves alight with anxious energy.

He reached a hand out for the bakery box when Isaac suddenly grabbed his wrist in a painful hold.

“Don’t,” was all he said eyes begging Stiles to obey without question.

Obviously that wasn’t going to happen.

“Why? It’s just a bakery box; what’s the worst that can happen?” Pulling back his wrist from the slackening grip the bounty hunter pulled in a deep breathe and slowly eased the lid off off the box. Just as carefully he replaced the lid.

“Nope. I’m not doing this today.” Making sure not to jostle the contents too much the bounty hunter picked up the box carefully and headed towards the front door. “Scotty can you get the door for me?”

Breathing steadily through his mouth and counting to ten with each inhale and exhale Stiles took the box from his now former favourite bakery to the side of the building aware of Scotty’s and Isaacs concerned eyes watching his every move. Lifting the box Stiles let it fall with a wet splat into the dumpster that sat inside the mouth of the alleyway.

In the second before he looked away Stiles got the clear view of the remains of abirthday cake absolutely writhing with hundreds upon thousands of maggots. Gagging he tripped away barely keeping control of his heaving stomach.

“Is this like the spider thing?” Scott’s voice came from close to his ear as a soothing hand rubbed circles on his back while leading him back into the office. “Should we call the police?”

“No. I don’t want to deal with any cops today.”

“Stiles this is serious; it’s a threat.” Even Isaac looked a little green and he hadn’t even seen what was in the box. Frowning Stiles shook off the suspicion and instead focused on his game plan. His newly this second hatched game plan.

“Ok here’s what’s going to happen: I’m not telling anyone because I’m done for today. In fact I’m done for the rest of the week.” Grabbing his bag from behind the front desk he chucked the strap over his shoulder the familiar weight helping to ground him. “Today’s Thursday right?” Scotty nodded in confirmation. “Right well I’m going on a holiday and I’m not going to deal with anything until Monday.”

“Stiles you can’t...” Isaac looked as uncomfortable and anxious as Stiles had ever seen him and under normal circumstances that would be enough to make the bounty hunter sit up and take notice but too much had been happening lately and all of the little details were falling through the cracks of Stiles breaking under the pressure.

“Cool where’re we going?” Scotty bounced on his heals and smiled benignly at his best friend/ brother.

“I’ll know when we get there.” They’d only done this a couple of times before when one of them needed a break but it never failed to amaze Stiles that he had someone so ready to throw caution to the wind to stand by his side. “Let’s go.”

“Stiles!” Isaac yelled out desperately as the duo reached the door with Stiles’ hand on the door handle. Panic was written all over the secretary’s face as he tried to get the two men to stop. “You can’t just leave town!”

“Give me one good reason.” Stiles didn’t know why Isaac was so close to freaking out but he was sure he’d figure it out after a weekend away from everyone and everything. When Isaac sealed his lips in a thin line averting his eyes to the floor Stiles nodded. There was a secret here, something the secretary couldn’t share but come Monday he’d figure it out. “See you Monday Isaac.”


	8. Two Dozen Doughnut Problem

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> What do you do when you’re hungover and have a two dozen doughnut problem? 
> 
> Eat two dozen doughnuts.

The thing about good decisions and bad decisions is that sometimes you can’t tell which is which until you can look back and point to the decision that changed the outcome. This wasn’t one of those times; Stiles and Scott knew they were making a bad decision. Hell they knew they had fucked up priorities sometimes but when it came to mental health and needing an outlet they could do worse.

The bar they stopped at Thursday night was one of the cheapest, corniest and loudest they could find two towns over so naturally it was filled with college kids drowning their woes one shot after another.

So naturally Stiles and Scott with their youthful good looks and a pocketful of cash joined in.

They hadn’t told anyone where they were going; they hadn’t known where they were going until they saw the neon sign proclaiming “We’re here! We’ve got beer! Deal with it!”

They’d made a deal a long time ago with their parents that if they were going out to do something reckless they’d check in at least once every 72 hours. They sent a group text to both parents as they hit the bar then shut their phones off.

“You know that ruling we made?” Scotty’s face scrunched up as he sucked on a lemon wedge. “Only parents and spouses need to know where we are?”

“I was there for the founding of the Bros night rules,” Stiles flicked two fingers at the bar tender ordering more shots. “Why’s that?”

“Well,” His brother fiddled with his glass finally stacking it with the four previous. “I’ve been thinking for a while now and maybe next time we do this Allison’ll be on that list.”

“Huh?” The bounty hunter stared blankly for a moment before laughing. “Well took you bloody long enough. Just wait until Christmas yeah? And I’ll split my winnings.”

“You guys made a bet on when I’d propose?”

“Only dad, Melissa, me, Babica, Nanna and that crazy guy who sits outside Starbucks. That crazy bastard bet me a dollar you’d propose on Thanksgiving!”

“I was going to propose on Thanksgiving.”

“Well shit I guess I owe him a dollar. Anyway less talking about important stuff more drinking!”

If this was a feel good movie you’d get cute snapshots of the night ending in the two downing coffee in a cafe the next morning.Instead Stiles downed the first half dozen shots then ended up in a nasty, possibly infectious, public bathroom heaving over a toilet he was desperately trying not to touch.

Wiping his face on some paper towel he stumbled out of the room aiming towards the back of the bar where Scotty had found a couple of older college kids to drink with: apparently being a bounty hunter was pretty impressive and scored the duo a few free drinks. And no self respecting man would say no to free drinks.

That was probably a character flaw they should work on.

Definitely something they should work on, just not when the free drinks are being handed out.

—-

Dragging himself out of the arms trapping him amongst blankets on a carpeted floor Stiles staggered to his hands and knees breathing brokenly through the sour taste of his mouth which threatened to cause his stomach to rebel.

“You’re too hot to look that awful,” came a rough low voice from his left. Squinting in the morning light the bounty hunter sat back on his heels and glared at the dark skinned young man nursing a cup of coffee at a table to his left.

Shuffling along on his knees the bounty hunter approached the table pulling himself into a chair beside the other man promptly stealing his coffee downing it in quick deep sips.

“Oi get your own asshole!” The man grumbled trying unsuccessfully to take back the mug.

“Do I look like I could make coffee right now?” Stiles grumbled under his breath.

The man still heard him anyway and laughed. “Considering you still haven’t stood up on your own yet I doubt you could walk,” he paused scrubbing a hand through his short hair. “Also considering how much you three drank I’m surprised you’re not dead.”

Stiles followed the man’s dark eyed gaze towards the floor: swathed in blankets Scott’s head poked out next to three garden gnomes while four others were wrapped in another man’s arms were he slept naked except for the scant covering of the corner of the shared blanket giving an illusion of modesty.

“We didn’t sleep with anyone did we?” Stiles asked looking back at the other man suddenly painfully aware that he was only wearing boxers himself and couldn’t tell what Scott was wearing if anything.

“Nah man,” the other man laughed standing up and snagging the now empty mug in one hand. “Getting called a baby all night is kinda a turn off. Except-“ he motioned to Stiles with another as he started the coffee machine again. “Now that I’ve seen the goods you could call me whatever you want and I’d be good to go.”

“Dude no,” Stiles cringed looking over the younger man. “You’re hot but you are such a baby it would be twelve levels of wrong.”

“That’s what you said last night,” was the sighed reply as the man returned to the table with two mugs of coffee placing one in front of the bounty hunter.“My name’s Mason by the way.”

“I’m Stiles,” he supplied holding out a hand shaking Mason’s gingerly before turning to the steaming mug in front of him. “What day is it?”

—-

Turns out it was Saturday. It took several more cups of coffee, a shower and a more few hours before Stiles felt functional again. Scott however, and it seemed his cuddle buddy Liam as well, wouldn’t get past a shambling zombie until they'd managed twelve hours of sleep. Six hours after he’d woken up Stiles was dressed and ready to face the world. As long as the world was his couch, pizza and tv. But at least if he could make the three hour drive home without having to stop and Chuck they’d be home by dinnertime.

Leaving the two lightweights asleep on the floor Mason dropped Stiles to pick up his jeep from outside what was now obviously a flamboyantly gay bar. The flamingos with feather boas in the windows kinda gave it away.

Swinging back by Mason and Liam’s apartment Stiles shoves his all but sleeping brother into the jeep.

Mason watches amused as Scott carries three of his captured gnomes determinedly proclaiming them as spoils of war; apparently they’d won. Liam was left on the dining room floor with what ended up being eight more of the little buggers. Mason has waved the collection off as not being the weirdest thing they’d woken up to.

Which yeah Stiles has to agree: at least he hadn’t woken up married.

Speaking of which he sent a text to their parents proclaiming:

_Alive, awake (half of us at least), not married and coming home today._

Waving at Mason who was heading back to bed Stiles checked the rest of his messages since he’d left his phone in the jeep the last two, very blurry, nights as per bro night rules.

He’d missed several calls from Derek and had a series of messages.

_Why are you in Carson City ?_

_Call me back as soon as you get this._

_If I don’t hear from you by tonight I’m coming to get you._

“Wow dude that’s a bit,” Stiles cringed reading the messages unable to come up with a word for how clingy and paranoid Derek sounded over text. “Yeah that’s a bit much.”

Hungover, he replied in a terse message. _Back from holiday Monday. Can talk then._

Sending the message Stiles started the long trip home turning his music down low to not wake Scotty his mind drifted through the past few weeks and everything that had happened. Something was going on; there were too many coincidences and too many times Derek had known something he shouldn’t for there not to be an explanation for it.

_How’d he know where I was?_ The sheriffs son thought to himself long fingers tapping against the steering wheel. _And he looked like he knew what I’d been talking to Peter about behind closed doors. Not to mention the Erica and Boyd react around him. Guilty. Secretive. They know something possibly Isaac knows too. Peter definitely does. It has to be the Hale family; even in school they’d always been secretive and standoffish to outsiders._

For the three hour drive Stiles thought over every interaction he’d had with Derek; the inconsistencies, the coincidences and those little niggling comments he’d make.

He needed more information there was something obvious he was missing. Something he knew but couldn’t see.

He’d have to call Derek when he got home.

—-

Dragging his brother inside their parents house Stiles waved off staying for dinner saying he had work to finish at home. It was a lie he was sure his father saw through but didn’t call him on so he couldn’t ask for anything better than the quick hug and grumbled complaints that warmed his heart.

Arriving at his apartment and throwing his messenger bag on the couch Stiles grabbed a bottle of water before crashing down on the cushions himself. He’d just hit call on the detectives ridiculously photogenic contact picture when he realised he’d landed just perfectly to spill the contents of his bag across the couch.

Bitching under his breath the bounty hunter started shoving things back into his bag. He’d just grabbed a tube of lip balm he didn’t recognise when Derek answered the phone.

“Stiles,” came the gruff and exasperated voice across the line. “I thought I wasn’t going to hear from you until Monday.”

“Well if you’re complaining I can always hang up?” Stiles snarked back. Yet again the man knew how to rile him up although right now there wasn’t any real anger in it; Stiles was sick of the angst and stress. He just wanted banter and sass dammit.

“No it’s, uh, good,” Derek’s voice softened over the phone into something more intimate making heat curl through the bounty hunters stomach. “To hear from you; that you would still talk to me. That you’re ok.”

“Why wouldn’t I be ok? I’m actually pretty tough you know.” Stiles leant back against the cushions smiling fondly, fingers fiddling absentmindedly with the lip balm. He pointedly ignored the other comment not knowing what to say about it.

“I know Stiles. I just,” Derek growled a frustrated sound out. “You disappeared to Carson without telling anyone and with everything that’s been going on I thought something had happened.”

Derek’s explanation had the bounty hunter grinning like a loon despite everything that had been going on between them.

“You care,” the twenty five year old man sing-songed: it was so easy to fall back into the familiar teasing with Derek.

“Yes Stiles I care,” the blatant admission made the bounty hunter blush his face hearing up and making him ridiculously thankful he couldn’t be seen.

“Oh my god that’s gotta be embarrassing for you,” he joked rubbing his hand against his mouth and remembering the lip balm. Moving his phone to hold it with his shoulder he opened the tube.

He didn’t hear the other man’s reply as he stared at what he held in his hands.

“Hey Derek,” he interrupted whatever the other man was saying heart beating wildly in his chest and stomach constricting painfully. “How’d you know I was in Carson?”

“Your dad told me,” came the immediate and smooth reply. The immediate and smooth lie; Stiles hadn’t told his dad where he was going and hadn’t even known himself until they arrived.

“Hmmm that makes sense,” he commented in lieu of pointing out that it in fact didn’t. “Look I’m pretty hungover.Scotty and I went a bit hard so I’ll talk to you later yeah?”

“Are you alright?” The palatable concern in the detectives voice almost made the bounty hunter tear up in frustration: it sounded sincere but how could he believe it?

“Hey Derek,” the bounty hunter hesitated clenching his hand into a fist and closing his eyes. He concentrated on the phone call and nothing else. Just the rough low voice he’d wanted to hear whispering in his ear. “Is there something you haven’t been telling me?”

“No Stiles,” came the quick and sure reply.

“Talk later Derek.”

“Bye Stiles.”

The bounty hunter ended the call and opened his hand; sitting in his palm disguised inside stick of lip balm was a tracking device.

——

After hanging up on Derek Stile began a thorough search of the rest of his bag and apartment. Putting everything, including the three devices he’d found, back into his bag the bounty hunter shoved it all into a cupboard under the tv and numbly took himself off to bed to sleep off the rest of his hangover; this was going to need all of his focus.

The next morning the Sheriffs son digs out the evidence board he’d borrowed from the station about four years ago and hadn’t ever gotten around to returning. Setting it up in his bedroom after shoving his bed over against the window the bounty hunter starts printing off notes and photos of the Hale family. He added everything he knew about Peter which was worryingly little after five years working for the man.

The most extensive set of notes was, obviously, for Derek. However even that had Stiles pursing his lips and frowning at the single page of typed notes. He knew small things like how he took his coffee but nothing past that: he didn’t know what his favourite food is, how many siblings he had past Laura his twin and Cora who was a year younger than them at school.

He knew the man was hot as sin but he didn’t know his fathers name.

Information to a bounty hunter, or the sheriffs son, is only a few well placed clicks away. And perhaps some slightly ( ok hugely) illegal access to private information. Stiles had been casually borrowing his dads login to get into police files since he was fifteen; his affinity for computers and information was the reason he originally went into IT. But for almost as long Stiles has been using, without anyone knowing any better, the FBI login information of one Rafe McCall. Scotty’s estranged father. At least the idiot was useful for something.

Stiles orders an delivery of two dozen doughnuts for lunch and begins the slow process of accessing confidential online files, printing anything of interest about the Hale family.

By the time his delivery arrives he’s only managed to find the army and navy files on the Hales who had enlisted. None of which held anything out of the ordinary. By the time he’d eaten a dozen doughnuts he’d collected enough information to cover the evidence board and half his wall unfortunately most of that was pictures of members of the Hale family. Stiles had included pictures of Isaac, Erica and Boyd. Using coloured lengths of wool Stiles connected all the evidence trying to figure out the bigger picture. He used blue for rumours, green for confirmed information and red for the weird things that didn’t have any rational explanation. There was a worrying amount of red.

Two dozen doughnuts eaten, the average for a day hungover and the sun had gone down. Sunday had come and gone for the bounty hunter and he had a confusing wall of pictures and printed pages to show for it.

Slowly chewing through his last doughnut Stiles stares at the mess of his wall from his position on his bed: something wasn’t adding up and in the words of his favourite detective ‘Once you eliminate the impossible, whatever remains, no matter how improbable, must be the truth.’ He’d already eliminated the impossible. And he was left with nothing.

“Nothing. There’s no answer,” the man muttered to himself chewing on his bottom lip. “Start again: Nothing is impossible. What is the truth?”

Eyes flickering back and forth the bounty hunter followed the red lines across the evidence board ignoring the other colours. Standing before the board without realising he’d moved the man reaches out trembling fingers to touch Derek’s picture.

“No.”

He trails his fingers along the red lengths of wool hesitating where each neatly typed and printed set of comments pinned. Individually they were odd little moments easily forgotten however connected together like this they spelled out something almost unbelievable. Unbelievable and dangerous.

Slowly and methodically with trembling hands Stiles takes down every bit of evidence from his board stuffing it into his metal rubbish bin. He takes the bin to the rooftop, soaking the paper in lighter fluid and stands there staring at the flames in the cool night air until every last piece of evidence is destroyed.

—-

Monday morning comes with an alarm blaring at six-thirty just like every other Monday before in the last five years. Just because he can set his own office hours Stiles always felt that keeping a schedule and getting started properly served him better than sleeping in until lunch time.

Today however he was more tempted than anything to just let the day roll past without him; he’d seen too much last night that he didn’t know how to process. Did it change absolutely every aspect of his life? Yes. Did it really change anything in his life? No. It was Monday morning and he had FTAs to bring in if he wanted to get paid. And getting paid was the dream.

Dressing for the occasion Stiles wears his awesome kickass combat boots, too dark to see stains jeans, two layers of shirt and flannel and holstered gun. He was ready to be a confident single bounty hunter out to bring baddies to justice!

First order of business: get some coffee and doughnuts.

Second order of business bringing in Martin Jones once again. This time he wouldn’t be getting out on a technicality. Arriving at the house the bounty hunter could feel himself slipping into a more dangerous state of mind. Which wasn’t necessarily a bad thing; it just wasn’t required for dealing with someone practically harmless like Jones.

Physically shaking himself out of the stagnating thoughts Stiles sauntered out of the car, slipping some cuffs into his back pocket and grinning lazily. He approached the house with liquid grace listening to the buzz of the tv laugh track and humming to himself.

He knocked on the front door holding himself off centre and out of the peepholes view.

The door opened to a thankfully fully clothed Martin. The man took one look at the bounty hunter and started backing away ready to bolt.

Moving without conscious thought the bounty hunters fist rabbited out connecting with the FTAs nose with a sickening crunch, drew back and connected again with the his stomach making the man double over. Taking advantage of his distraction Stiles handcuffed Jones pulling him out of the house.

“Martin Jones I’m bringing you into the sheriffs station for failure to appear at court.” He pushes the man towards his car. “Do not make this difficult for me because I am not in the mood.”

“Fuck you!” Jones spluttered dogging in his heels and halting their forward progress. “I’m not going quietly. This is police brutality!”

“Mr. Jones,” The bounty hunter moved forward pressing himself against the FTAs back to whisper in his ear. “I am not a police officer. I am a bounty hunter. Ever heard of bring them in dead or alive?” Jones nodded hesitantly. “Don’t. Tempt. Me.”

Giving the man a shove Stiles managed to get him moving and into the car. Cuffing the FTA to the bar on the dashboard the bounty hunter knew he should feel guilty for intimidating the man; the whole dead part of dead or alive thing was a big no-no. In fact punching him for no reason was a big no-no too but Stiles couldn’t find it in himself to feel guilty at all.

—-

Finishing up his paperwork after handing Jones over to Parrish Stiles looks up to see Derek fast approaching the processing desk which, the bounty hunter realises with a jolt, happens with frightening regularity. Derek is always the first on the scene when Stiles is involved these days. And he’s never in the station five minutes without the other man making an appearance. It’s not surprising when Stiles bitterly thinks back on the two tracking devices and the listening device he’d found in his bag. Along with the lip balm there was a slimline tracking device inside the diary he kept for appointments and a listening device actually sewn into the lining of the bag itself.

Where moments ago the idea of seeing Derek so soon and talking face to face was nerve wracking Stiles now felt adrenaline course through his body at the impending confrontation: he was going to get an answer one way or another and put an end to all the bullshit.

“Derek I’d say it’s a surprise to see you here but this is where you work,” the bounty hunter comments with faux joviality as he moves away from the desk to stand toe to toe with the other man. “Or I guess not since detectives generally stick to the third floor. What’s with that?”

Ok apparently we’re not being nice today. Apparently today is the day for blunt.

“Must be a coincidence,” the other man huffed glancing down at Stiles with a soft look in his eye. The detectives lips twitch into a small private smile that makes Stiles want to punch him in his stupid perfect teeth.

Glancing awkwardly between the two men, sensing the tension and not wanting to have any part of it Deputy Parish pushes over the almost completed form for Stiles to sign so he could receive a body receipt for Jones. As soon as Stiles signed it off Parish handed him the little slip of paper that was the body receipt and rushed the FTA away.

“Well I guess my work here is done,” Stiles raised an eyebrow over at the other man who was staring at him oddly. “Unless-“

He broke off awkwardly trying to figure out what to say to save this barest hint of what they could have that threatened to break before it started.

“Unless?” Derek stepped closer angling his face down so they were almost sharing the same breath.

“Unless there’s something you want to tell me?” Stiles didn’t know why he made it a question but it made sense since the answer would change everything between them.

“No Stiles,” Derek smiled easily a hand lifting to touch the bounty hunters cheek. The touch was soft and intimate: it broke Stiles’ heart. “I’m not hiding anything.”

Stiles stepped back then back again.

“I’ll see you around Derek.” He left and didn’t look back.

—-

Considering how broken his sleep had been the last week and all the horrible stuff that had happened recently Stiles wasn’t surprised when he was awake an hour before his alarm Tuesday morning. The early morning light of predawn filtered in through his closed curtains bathing the room in a soft warm glow.

There were no morning sounds from his neighbours which told him exactly how early it was before he’d even looked at his phone. Holding the device against his chest the exhausted man stared up at the ceiling of his bedroom following the patterns of the light absentmindedly. Thoughts tumbled for attention across his sleep addled brain until one finally won out.

What was that noise?

Feeling like an big breasted bimbo in a B grade horror film Stiles sat up in bed clutching the covers. There was a soft shuffling noise, hushed clicks and scratching. Muted noises of movement against the tiled kitchen floor. Watching the door intently as he shuffled out of bed the bounty hunter almost screamed when his foot connected with something soft and warm. Flinging himself back into bed Stiles stared down at his carpet in disbelief: his floor was covered in bunnies.

Every inch of floor space was taken up with a fluffy body some snuggled together some on top of another, black, white, spotty and browns. Ears flickered and noses twitched in an adorable display of infestation.

“My bedroom floor is covered in rabbits,” he tested the words; they sounded right coming out of his mouth. “My bedroom floor is cover in rabbits and I don’t know when or how they got here.”

The soft scrabbling noise from the kitchen sounded again and Stiles had the unique sensation of dreading the sneaking suspicion that the rabbits were not just covering his bedroom floor.

Easing his way out of bed he carefully stepped between the fluffy bodies who barely moved out of his way; at least they didn’t appear skittish or aggressive. He made his way to his closet and dressed in his everyday clothes. He folded another set under his arm and took his boots back to bed to put on not wanting to trip and accidentally hurt one of the cute rabbits.

Finally dressed the bounty hunter was ready to face the rest of his apartment. Easing open the bedroom door, shuffling the bunnies out of the way so as not to hurt them, Stiles was somehow unsurprised to see more rabbits in his kitchen. The floor was again covered in writhing fluffy bodies all the way from his bedroom door through the open kitchen and into the lounge area.

Shambling along without lifting his feet from the floor stiles opened his bathroom door to see yet more bunnies covering the tiles.

Every inch of floor space in his apartment was covered in bunnies. Stiles shuffled his feet back to the kitchen to grab his gun from the cookie jar. Shoving it in the back of his jeans the bounty hunter made his way to the tv cabinet and pulled out his messenger bag, bugs and all, shoving his clothes into it.

Finally he turned to the pink cellophane wrapped gift basket on his coffee table. Another pink heart shaped piece of card hung from a ribbon around the top. Undoing the ribbon Stiles read the card and had to resist the temptation to frisbee it across the room.

_I know he hasn’t told you why we’re playing this game and you don’t know the rules,_ the elegant printed script read. _But that won’t save you once I’ve finished toying with him. You are a pawn in our game and he will sacrifice you to me in due time._

Running on some twisted loyalty instinct Stiles shoves the card into hiss messenger bag. He has a feeling this has something to do with Derek and the Hale family secrets. He isn’t sure he likes Derek at this point but he also doesn’t think the detective should be implicated in this mess officially. At least not until he can confront him properly.

“My apartment is covered in bunnies and they’ve left a gift basket while I was asleep,” Stiles whispered to himself still thoroughly numb with shock. “Ok let’s do this.”

Peeling back the cellophane reveals two equally disturbing things: a series of photographs of Stiles sleeping and at least two dozen kiwi fruits.

He’s got the phone up to his ear calling Scotty before he realises what he’s doing.

“Stiles?” The croaky voice that answers is thick with sleep. He’d no doubt woken the other man up. “What’s going on?”

“Scotty I need you to promise me something right now.”

“Sure stiles anything.” Comes the drowsy reply.

“At my funeral make sure they have upbeat music. None of that hymn crap. And no assholes,” he started running a hand through his hair needing to move and being very much unable to pace like he usually would. “If they didn’t like me in life they can’t come to my funeral and pretend we were friends. Ok?”

“What the fuck Stiles?” Scotty’s voice came across the line much more awake and borderline angry. “What happened? Are you serious or is this the Twinkie thing again?”

“This is serious Scotty: don’t let them eulogise me. Don’t let them make me out to be a saint when I was just a fucked up bounty hunter.”

“Ok.” There’s a heavy pause across the line as Stiles can hear his brother breathing heavily while collecting his thoughts. “Ok I promise: no assholes, good music and to tell everyone you weren’t a saint. Now what the fuck is going on?”

Now stiles couldn’t blame Scotty for swearing but he sure as hell could laugh. It was laugh or cry at this point.

“Oh man Scotty this time it’s bunnies,” the man giggled staring across his apartment with baffled eyes. “Every inch of my floor is covered in bunnies. Hundreds of bunnies.”

“How?”

“I honestly have no idea. They came in while I was sleeping and filled my apartment with bunnies.” He sighed out another giggling laugh at how ridiculous it sounded. “I know I should be terrified and I’m honestly probably in shock but it’s bunnies. Fluffy bunnies with little fluffy tails. Hundreds of fluffy bunnies.”

“Have you called dad yet?”

“Nah,” Stiles sighed again. “I really don’t want to deal with the cops today.”

“Stiles.”

“I know! I know! I’ll call him now!”

“After sending me a picture.”

“Yeah because we’re gonna want to remember this.” The answer wasn’t as sarcastic as it could have been but stiles was willing to blame the bunnies.

“I’ll see you at the office?”

“Yeah I’ll see you at the office.” Stiles hung up the phone switching it to camera to take pictures of the bunnies. “If I’m not dead.”

Sending the pictures off he called his dad hugging his legs to his chest on the couch.

“Stiles to what did you do?” Answered the exasperated voice of the Sheriff.

“Technically I didn’t do anything this time,” Stile immediately defended himself. “Something was done to me. And I know how you get when I don’t follow proper police procedure so here I am calling to report a thing.”

“And what thing would you like to report before I’ve had my morning coffee?”

“Someone’s out to kill me dad.”

“Well we already knew that Stiles what happened this time?” Stiles could hear his dad moving on the other end of the line. No doubt getting ready to come deal with the latest catastrophe of Stiles’ life.

“So someone snuck into my apartment and filled it with bunnies last night. Like hundreds of bunnies. In every room.” Stiles glare at the basket on his coffee table. One of the bunnies was staring too nibble on the edge of the cellophane so the bounty hunter nudged it further onto the table and out of reach with his booted foot. “And they left a gift basket filled with kiwi fruit and pictures of me sleeping in what looks like five different nights.”

“You haven’t touched the fruit have you?”

“No dad I didn’t immediately grab the one thing I am allergic to and could kill me,” Stiles rolled his eyes in exasperation. “I’m sitting on the couch away from the cutebunnies and the killer fruit because I think if I tried to leave there’d be bunnies all through the building and somehow I think that the super wouldn’t be very happy with me after that.”

Which hey the guy was fine with the time a crazy FTA had broken in and spray painted dicks on the walls but Stiles didn’t think Frank would appreciate a hallway full of bunnies. Especially what amounted to monster threat bunnies.

Half an hour passed and Stiles was beginning to wonder if he should just make a break for it when a knock sounds on the front door startling him. He carefully steps to the floor and begins his shuffling way towards the door holding his gun in a steady grip. Before he has to decide how to open the door while holding his gun ready a voice calls out.

“It’s us Stiles,” the very familiar and amused voice of his father relaxes Stiles. “We’ve got the hallway blocked off so you’re safe to open up.”

Edging the door open slowly while nudging the bunnies out of the way Stiles doesn’t look up until the door is fully open. He immediately wants to slam it shut again.

There stands his father, the two now familiar animal control guys and at least fifteen other officers. Some obviously called in on a day off dressed in casual cloths but all of them sporting different shades of amused grins.

Great. The stiles show has yet again satisfied its viewers.

“Oh my god I thought you were exaggerating,” Greg the familiar face of animal control in Beacon County stares in shock through the open door.

“Nope.” Stiles steps out of the apartment and to the side of the door rocking back on his heels. “There more in the other rooms too.”

“We won’t have enough crates,” says not-Greg the other animal control guy. “We’re gonna need more crates.”

“I told you he said hundreds,” the Sheriff side eyes Not-Greg.

“There shouldn’t be this many rabbits in Beacon Hills let alone all of Beacon County.” Grumbled not-Greg. “You have more rabbits in your apartment than should be in the entire County!” He glared at Stiles clearly offended.

“Hey I didn’t put them there!” The bounty hunter held up his hands to clam the man down which didn’t help with him still holding a gun. Not-Greg’s eyes zeroed in on the firearm, widening so far that Stiles was afraid he’d hurt himself.

Greg, who was fast becoming Stiles’ favourite animal control guy put a comforting arm around the other man and let him back down the hallway. “Why don’t you just go crab some more crates and maybe some boxes from the office?”

Down each direction of the hallway before the doors of the neighbours apartments what looked like baby gates had been put up block the escape routes for any stray rabbits which Stiles is thankful for. 

“So do I need to be here for this or can I run away and pretend someone isn’t threatening me with bunnies?” Stiles looks pleadingly at his dad with wide innocent eyes. He hides the gun behind his back to add to the innocent act. “C’mon it’s not like I can skip town and I probably shouldn’t spend anymore time near the death fruit.”

“Did you touch them?” The Sheriff immediately comes forward and grabs stiles hands to inspect them.

“Yes dad,” Rolling his eyes yet again Stiles injected as much sarcasm as humanly possible into his reply. “I touched the death fruit and I’m now speaking to you from beyond the grave.” At his dads flat look Stiles took back his hands and held them in a placating gesture. “Honestly I’m fine just feeling a bit itchy but that might be in my head at this point.”

His father shoved an epipen into his hands with a disgruntled huff. “Melissa sent this in case you touched them. Keep it in your bag since you should really have one anyway.”

“Ugh dad you’re embarrassing me in front of the cool kids!” Stiles whines putting the pen into his pocket. The group of deputies were watching amused. Some outright laughing.

“Fine you can go but I want you in the station later to give your statement. Tomorrow at the latest.” The Sheriff huffed his son to his side. “I’ll grab your bag for you and you can go catch some bad guys.”

Crime scene photographers moved to follow the Sheriff into the apartment taking picture of the bunnies as they go. The rest of the deputies and Greg were already crating up the escaping bunnies; Stiles is suddenly struck with how ridiculous his life has gotten lately.

At least nothing could be crazier than bunnies right?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter was staring at me until I posted it because it needed to go up to move onto the final part of our story. 
> 
> Thank you to the amazing readers who kudo and comment they are literally giving me life right now. I’ve just bought a house and between moving, work, child and financial stress those notifications are a simple joy to focus on ❤️


	9. Drama School Dropouts

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Stiles DOESNT eat doughnuts

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you to everyone who has been reading this since the beginning and also anyone who has read this at all. As of today I have a final chapter count. 
> 
> Thank you to all the people who take the time to comment ❤️ Each word is appreciated so much

“Hey Peter you know when you do your whole ‘look at my cool bounty hunter collection’ symposiums?” Stiles abandoned the paperwork he was pretending to do when the boss walked into the office. It was supposed to be a day off but it seems like some of the couldn’t keep away. 

Peter finished removing his coat stopping to stare at the bounty hunter.

“That’s not what they’re called Stiles,” he folded the expensive fabric over one arm and frowned at the man. “Actually that wasn’t a proper question. What do you want Stiles?”

“Well I want to leave town,” he waved a hand to indicate his surroundings, fuck he’d miss everyone and this place but he needed some space to figure himself out and get the hell away from Greenberg’s twisted games. “But I love what I do and I’m good at it. So I guess I was wondering if you know anyone on the other side of the country who would hire me.”

All movement in the office froze as Issac and Peter turned horrified faces to stare at the man awkwardly fidgeting.

“It’s not you,” he babbled into the silence even as the words made his heart clench and misery swirl in his stomach. “It’s just after the whole rabbit thing and especially everything with Derek I think I need a fresh start you know? Away from temptation?”

“What did Derek do?” Peters eyes flicked up and down Stiles’ form as if looking for any sign of injury.

“He didn’t do anything,” ok that was a lie but they didn’t know that. Or at least why it was a lie. “It’s just everything that’s going on at the moment and I can’t do these kind game anymore when I don’t even know the rules everyone else is playing by. It’s exhausting.”

His boss stared at him for another full minute of silence as he started to mechanically pull his coat back on, adjusting his lapels he pointed a stern finger at his employee.

“You aren’t quitting or going anywhere until I go fix something.”

“I wasn’t planning on just leaving,” Stiles replied frowning. “And you can’t fix this. It just is what it is.”

“It’s past time you learnt the rules Stiles.” With that statement Peter Hale turned and swept out of the building after barely being there for two minutes. Stiles was left staring after the man and trying to share a confused look with Isaac; except the other man looked like he knew exactly what was going on.

—-

Peter Hale was furious; driving faster than was legal or safe even for him he made a quick call home.

“Is Derek there?” He asked as soon as the phone was answered before the other person could speak.

“Why yes he is. Hello brother dear would you like to speak to him?” His sisters teasing voice calmed him slightly across the static of the handsfree.

“No.” He hit the button to hang up. He was only five minutes away now and with any luck Talia would call Derek to the main house to figure out what was going on.

Arriving in front of the hidden manor in the middle of the Beacon County Preserve three minutes later Peter could see more than just Derek had gathered to see what was happening. Over a dozen of the family had come from their surrounding homes all clustered on the lawn in front of the main house.

He could hear them chatting and speculating amongst themselves as he got out of his car and strode over but the man tuned them out to focus on the nephew he adored who was standing between his sister and mother at the top of the stairs that lead to the family manor. Derek looked as confused as the rest of them but that was fine. He’d understand soon enough.

“Derek,” Peter called as he reached the centre of the loose ring the bystanders had created in their curiosity. The man pointed a clawed finger at the ground in front of him.

Derek obeyed willingly walking calmly to stand in front of his uncle, face open and unconcerned.

Peter smiled over Derek’s shoulder at the two women who still stood at the top of the stairs watching the proceedings. Laura, Derek’s twin sister, looked as confused as the rest of them but Talia their mother, and Peters sister, just nodded at him. She knew what was coming.

No one else did.

Peter returned his gaze back to the man in front of him and pulled back his fist lightning fast, eyes glowing bright golden yellow the older man punched his nephew square in the jaw, causing Derek to fly back several meters from the brutal force of the hit, to land in a crumpled heap at the bottom of the stairs.

Gasps rung out across the witnesses at the unexpected act; Derek’s eyes flashed in response and he rubbed his sore jaw but no one interrupted.

“What did you do to him?” Peters voice had become a deeper gravelly growl as he prowled closer to his nephew.

——

Stiles had actually managed to make a sizeable dent in his paperwork when the office phone started ringing. It wasn’t his job to answer it and play nice so he just smirked at Isaacs chirpy customer service voice while making pained faces at the man.

“Ok I understand I can lock up,” the secretary flicked his eyes toward the bounty hunter then away. “No I can- oh ok if you say so. Yep. I’ll be there.”

He hung up and sighed hands gripping the edge of his desk as if bracing himself.

“I’ve gotta go: family emergency,” he grimaced at Stiles at the awkward segue.

“Isaac I’ve known you since freshman year.You don’t have any family.” The bounty hunter shuffled his paperwork and files into a neat pile before pinning the man before him with an unimpressed glare. “Do you want to try that again?”

“I have family! They’re just not blood related.” The man checked an incoming text before packing up his own work and wrapping a scarf around his neck. “And they’re coming to pick me up and Peter is on his way to pick you up.”

“Is your family thing a Hale thing?” Stiles grabbed his bag and followed the other man out of the office watching his evasive behaviour.

“Stiles.” He growled out the name low but didn’t seem inclined to comment.

“So you know their secret?”

“Stiles!”

“So you do. And you know where Peter wants to take me and what’s going on don’t you?”

“Stiles I can’t-!”Isaac made a deep frustrated noise scrunching up his face and wiping a shaking hand over his furrowed brows.

“Isaac,” the bounty hunter dropped all pretence of being casual and turned to face the other man holding eye contact. Carefully watching the half twitch of fingers and the flickering of his eyes. Isaac gripped the scarf wrapped around his throat with a white knuckled hand. “I thought you were my friend: what’s going on?”

The other man is as saved from answering, and if the absolute relief shining from his open face said anything saved was definitely the word to use, when a car pulled in and Erica stuck her upper body out the window.

“Stop interrogating him Stilinski you’ll know everything soon enough.”

Stiles threw his hands up in the air. _Of fucking course Erica and Boyd are a part of whatever this is too!_

Isaac scrambled away from the vexed bounty hunter to get into the waiting car. Erica and Isaac waved cheekily while boyd drives them away straight faced.

Luckily Stiles wasn’t left waiting long, as soon as he turned from the vanishing taillights a sleek black sports car pulled up alongside the kerb. The windows rolled down to reveal Peter Hale in all his sinister well dressed glory.

“Here’s the choice Stiles; get in and you’ll find out answers to everything,” Peter tilted his sunglasses down so his assessing gaze captured the bounty hunters confused attention. His pale grey eyes glowed like molten gold shimmering with eerie light in the midday sun. “or walk away now, never know and I’ll get you a job on the other side of the country. You’ll never have to see a Hale ever again.” 

The older man smirked a confident savage smile as the bounty hunter got in the car sealing his fate.

—-

“So are you going to tell me anything before I get out of the car or are you just going to sit on this whole ‘I know something you don’t know’ thing you’ve got going on?” Stiles turned from the frankly astounding view of beautifully manicured lawns and a small village of buildings to glare at his boss who only turned the car off in response. “I swear to god Peter if you’re some creepy cult I’m getting revenge.”

The other man laughed. “We aren’t a cult Stiles.”

“So,” Stiles drawled as he got out of the car and followed Peter towards the biggest house. It looked like some kind of weirdly rich persons woodland retreat palace. Seriously normal people don’t need that many columns. “Is Derek here?”

Peter cocked his head to the side before answering. It was only vaguely concerning.

“Apparently he decided to chicken out and go for a run when we arrived.”

“And how exactly do you know that?” Stiles glared half heartedlyat the man walking easily beside him eyes calculating. There was no answer from Peter as they approached the bottom of the steps and another voice chimed in.

“We told him of course little red,” Laura Hale stood at the top of the steps hands on hips and grinning down at the other man. Stiles smiled genuinely at the woman who as Derek’s twin sister had been just as present in his teenage years as the other man had been. Even though they ran with different circles of popularity they’d always been something akin to friends. He hadn’t seen more than a few glimpses of her in passing since graduating but he was happy to see her again.

“For the love of god Laura if you start bringing nicknames into this I swear you’re gonna lose all the creepy vibes Peter has worked so hard to cultivate here,” Stiles shoved his hands into his pockets and grinned easily. No one needed to know how close he was to running away screaming. “Seriously Peter has been so mysterious and sinister and I’d hate to see his good work ruined.”

Out of the corner of his eye Stiles noticed and catalogued movement coming from the other houses surrounding them. His rough guess had at least twenty maybe even thirty people circling them. He didn’t give any indication he’d noticed but he desperately wished he hadn’t left him gun in the cookie jar today. He felt he could trust Peter and the Hale family but something was going on and everyone was enjoying being dramatic a bit too much.

Apparently Talia Hale, Derek’s mum, agreed because she she sighed shaking her head at all of them.

“Well come inside and we can have some coffee while we talk,” she opened the door waiting expectantly as Laura, Stiles and Peter trooped inside. No one else followed however the heavy feeling of being watched didn’t dissipate with the closed door.

They all ended up sitting at a breakfast bar in a huge catalogue worthy kitchen Stiles and Peter on one side with Laura standing opposite after handing out drinks and Talia sitting at the end of the bench sipping her coffee. Looking between the family members Stiles frowned; their posture and positions telling an interesting story. Peter has stayed by his side the entire time always half facing him, Laura stood with as crossed and a small frown on her face watching the bounty hunter and Talia seemed for all intents to be a indifferent observer.

“Have we all been sufficiently mysterious and serious?” Stiles finally asked breaking the silence. He couldn’t help but be a little shit sometimes. He could tell by the three sets of twitching lips that the Hale family found him more amusing than annoying. “What’s this big secret. Lay it on me.”

The other three adults shared a brief conversation via raised eyebrows and smiles. Laura plopped herself down on a stool directly opposite Stiles and leant forward on her elbows. Finally he’d be getting some answers.

“Werewolves.”

Stiles knew he shouldn’t want to smack a woman upside the head for just smiling calmly at him but Laura was really trying his patience with the dramatic crap.

“Are we just going to be doing dramatic declarations or are you going to give me an explanation?” Because seriously what the fuck he’d been suspicious of the Hales but no one expected whatever fantasies they’d concocted to be real. No one was laughing or waving off her comment. Turning to Peter Stiles raised an eyebrow silently asking for someone to show a shred of sanity.

With elongated teeth and golden glowing eyes Peter raises an eyebrow back at Stiles. Maybe it was too much to ask for sanity from his boss.

Keeping his breathing steady Stiles turned his back to Peter and instead gave his attention to Talia who was watching the display with an amused smile. Laura, when he glanced her way, had glowing reddish amber eyes and mutton chops from hell.

“Mrs Hale please tell me you understand what an explanation is unlike these two drama school dropouts.” Stiles jerked a thumb behind his shoulder to indicate the two idiots behind him the woman only smiled in reply flashing her own red/gold eye at him. Just his luck his haven of sanity was crazy too.

“Are you afraid of us Stiles?” Laura purredleaning over the counter getting into his personal space.

“No but you are both being overly dramatic when what I actually need from you is an explanation. As in facts and information passed from one person to another.” He waved a hand at her face. “I don’t know what reaction you want here, well ok I could probably guess but I’m not going to wet my pants just to amuse you, so can we move on to what exactly you’re telling me, why you’re telling me and why now.”

“Ugh fine!” Laura flung her hands into the air her face smoothing back to its human visage. “We are werewolves. Almost everyone in our family is. There’s like a five percent population in America. Then there’s a ten to fifteen percent population of hunters. Who want to kill us.” She took a sip of her coffee. “With me so far?” At Stiles’ nod she continued. “Honestly it’s not that exciting except that most of us go into some kind of military or public service career because the studies done into the mentalities of werewolves say we function better in society in a hierarchical system. Reflects back to the pack mentality. So anyway we seem to have a whole lot of law enforcing types and we clash a bit with the hunters who for obvious weapon gaining reasons tend to lean towards criminal enterprises.”

“Obviously these are considered a life or death secrets for our society and family Stiles,” Peter broke in when Laura seemed to pause to gather her thoughts.

“Yeah obviously.” Stiles rolled his eyes at the werewolf, which yikes, before turning back to Laura. “So why are you telling me? Specially why you and why tell me?”

“Derek was supposed to talk to you about all this before you got involved,” Laura grimaced. “And as to why me I’m the next alpha so it’s my job. And well since Derek was too chicken shit to tell you Peter decided for your safety you needed to know.”

“For my safety?” Stiles glanced over at his boss again who met his eyes solemnly.

“Apparently you’ve gotten a hunter threatening you,” Laura glanced at her mother continuing only after her encouraging nod. “And well we don’t want Derek screwing it up with you because he’s hiding things from you. So you deserve to know.”

“We trust you Stiles,” Talia added patting the young man’s hand in a fond gesture. “Plus Peter is standing in to represent you because he believes you should know. Normally it’s Derek who would be doing that as your partner but he has... issues that are causing him some hesitation.”

“Plus I don’t want you to be angry at Derek because he kept this secret from you,” Laura commented smiling at him.

“Oh I’m not angry at Derek for keeping his secrets because everyone is entitled to secrets and this is a doozy,” the bounty hunter fiddled with the handle of his mug. It felt like tattling to talk to his family before talking to Derek but stiles knew he had to be upfront here. Something told him it wouldn’t go down well if he lied. “I mean I don’t like secrets but I wouldn’t have forced him to tell me anything.”

“Then why were you so angry with him?” Peter asked shuffling forward.

“Because the asshole bugged me!” Stiles shouted immediately cringing and apologising to Talia who smiled. “Sorry. I’m pissed that he put a tracking device and listening devices in my bag!”

“He did what?” Laura stood suddenly causing her stool to crash back against the tile floor.

“He bugged my bag. He was spying on me and I’m pissed because he violated my privacy.”

Suddenly stiles felt a cold shiver down his spine as some primal part of his brain acknowledged what he wasn’t letting himself think: this woman in front of him was an apex predator and could easily kill him if he made one wrong move. His breathing slowed as he stared at the molten lava of glowing eyes and white flash of sharp pointed teeth. His body reacted by making itself as unnoticeable as possible.

“I’m going to kick his ass.” Laura spit out in a slightly slurred growl. “He let us think this was some awkward relationship crap and he did that!”

Spinning on her heel Laura stalked from the room, the three adults sat in silence until the front door slammed shut echoing from the front of the house.

“So,” Stiles looked to Peter who he surprisingly found to be the one he trusted most in this situation. “ you wanted to share your family secret to save us from relationship drama?”

Peter chuckled shaking his head.

“Also because with all the information you could be a better bounty hunter. It’s not fair that Allison takes all the preternatural assignments.” He rubbed his chin thoughtfully. “Actually once we get you some proper training you could be the best.”

“Right,” so ally knows. “Any other secrets or surprises?”

Peter tapped his clawed index finger against his chin in thought. He still hadn’t bothered to revert to human.

“Well Isaac-“

“Obviously.” Stiles dismisses the comment with a waved hand. “Boyd and Erica too. Oh hey have those two finally realised they’re perfect for each other yet?”

Talia chuckled at Peters sour expression. It was obvious the werewolf was trying to maintain some form of sinister mystery and the bounty hunter was spoiling it.

“Yes they have finally stopped dancing around each other,” Talia smiled at the younger man. “I hear we have you to thank for that?”

“Well I, uh , gave a push? But I didn’t really do anything!”

“Derek told us you made a comment that kicked them off while they were just outside human hearing range.”

“Derek talks about me?” Stiles flushed in embarrassment. “Actually no: human hearing range?”

“We can hear quite a bit further that humans can.” Stiles turned back to Peter to pay attention to the explanation. “Obviously there’s a margin of error for individuals but in general we can hear a conversation within a kilometre. Of course that’s out here with less distractions to filter through. In the city it’s closer to five hundred. Most can focus enough to hear heartbeats as well and if you train enough you can become a pretty decent lie detector. Which we train all our pack in to help with survival against hunters.”

“Wow that’s awesome,” Stiles started off into the middle distance thinking back on his interactions with Peter. He refused to think about Derek until he was home again. “What else is better than humans?”

“Not better Stiles just different.” Talia murmured softly from the side.

“Well as a human I say better because that is, and I am repeating myself, awesome.”

“We have enhanced hearing, sight, taste and smell,” Peter continued lecturing smugly. “We are stronger, faster and have better reflexes. And we can heal from almost any injury in a fraction of human healing times.”

“That’s a lot to unpack. I hope you realise I’m going to be picking at this for months boss,” Stiles sat back at stared at the ceiling. His min was a jumble of information so he mentally recalled the evidence board from his room; with some mental shuffling he added the new information in connecting it with golden string to all the questions answered by: werewolves. Fuck that answered a lot of questions. “Wait why don’t you have enhanced touch? Oh never mind there’s really no way to enhance human touch it’s already awesome.”

“You appear very calm for someone who’s just found out life changing information,” Talia tapped the countertop to regain the bounty hunters attention.

“Oh.” Stiles shuffled awkwardly on the limited space of the stool he was perched on. “Um, that’s kinda because it’s not really a surprise? I mean being confirmed is like: wow! But,” he glanced back at Peter who looked thoroughly amused. “The thing is that I kind of already knew? I mean all the evidence pointed towards it but you confirmed it?”

“How?”

“Well I knew Derek was hiding something from me: I knew Peter knew and Issac. Boyd and Erica were obvious. Then I just listed and added together all the odd moments I’d have with each of them: replying to muttered comments, commenting on food I’d already eaten, knowing things they couldn’t know and of course I only recently realised that the cctv feed in the office is video only: Peter was overhearing things inhumanly possible. Add to that the stuff from high school like when I swear Derek broke his arm but was fine instantly, when Laura kicked that ball out of the school and all sorts of weird little things that alone meant nothing but together spelt it out.”

He looked at his boss who shrugged.

“You put a name to it and helpfully confirmed it with a visual but it was just logical.”

The kitchen was quiet but for the ticking of a clock on the far wall; seconds ticked over until a minute had passed. Not willing to be the one to break the silence Stiles drank his now lukewarm coffee.

“So either we are all horrible at hiding this life and death secret or you are just that smart: which is it Stiles?”

“I don’t think there’s a right answer to that,” he hedged awkwardly. “So what happens now?”

“What do you mean?”

“Well I now know your family secret,” Stiles waved vaguely in the direction of the houses outside. “What happens now to keep me quiet? I’m assuming a death threat?”

“Not exactly Stiles,” Peter chuckled darkly. “I vouched for you to bring you into the fold because Derek was too scared of your reaction so you’re my responsibility. I trust you to keep our secret.”

“Ok that’s all kinds of heartwarming,” Stiles replies face disbelieving and eyebrow raised. “But what have you left out?”

“If you go to tell anyone it’s my responsibility to kill you,” Peter answers easily.

“There we go,” stiles smiled happily at the man. “I would’ve been so disappointed if I left here without being threatened even a teensy bit.”

—

“Ok so let me get the straight; you, a werewolf, From a family of known werewolves, to the relevant community, who are keeping their werewolfism secret have names your business ‘Werewolf Bonds Agency.’ And you got away with it?!” Stiles slammed down his glass of water against the kitchen bench causing the liquid to splash out. He grinned sheepishly at Talia who shook her head at his exuberance while fetching a tea towel. “I just need to know why you get to be the coolest person here and no one told me!”

“I’m pretty sure I’ve been the coolest person you know since the day I hired you Stiles,” Peter joked moving the glass out of reach of the overexcited younger man. “I don’t know how this is news to you.”

“But the irony!” Stiles pouted glaring at the other man who was having entirely too much fun. “Enough of the jokes: it’s time for you to explain everything to me.”

“Everything would take all night Stiles what do you want to know?”

“Everything. What’s so hard to understand about that word?” The bounty hunter grunted. “I don’t actually know enough to know what I don’t know. I have no idea where to start or what to ask. How about this: what were your expecting to explain today?”

The two Hales shared a weighted look. Eventually Peter sighed, Talia nodded and the woman went to busy herself with some dishes.

“We expected you to come here, hear the werewolf secret and get Derek to explain his traumatic past and get you two together.” Peter laid out the facts turning from Stiles and staring out the kitchen window. Neither of the werewolves were looking at the human in the room.

“Honestly we just want Derek to finally be happy and get past his trust issues but right now Laura is yelling at him for being a coward and he’s agreeing with her so I doubt he’s going to come tell you anything himself.” Peter cocked his head for a moment obviously listening to something outside of human hearing range. “Yep he’s refusing to come inside so Laura is sitting on him and says we should tell you everything and he can just suck it up and listen.”

“Sitting on him?”

“Well she might be the next Alpha but she’s still his sister,” the older man shrugged running a hand through hi short hair leaving it disheveled. “I guess we start the story from the beginning: when Derek graduates high school desperately in love with you, goes in for his stint in the army then the Beacon Hills rumour mill goes crazy because you’d gotten married suddenly, someone tells Derek and he gets his heart broken.” Peter raises his voice slightly and glares at the window again. Obviously in the direction of eavesdropping werewolf twins. “However I know both sides of this stupid convoluted love story and I can tell you my idiot nephew probably shouldn’t have slept with someone then left for four years in the army the next morning with saying anything.” Peter glared daggers through the wall for a moment before sighing. “You were stupid teenagers in love and it would probably have ended in tears one way or another so I don’t blame either of you for that. I don’t blame you two for this situation.”

Peters hands grasped at nothing before finally coming together tightly. The bounty hunter reached out hesitatingly laying a gentle hand comfortingly on his employer’s, and friend’s, tightly clasped ones.

“Who do you blame Peter?”

“Kate Argent.” Talia hissed our the name with such vitriol filled with dark malice that the name sounded like a curse. And perhaps in this family it was because Peter flinched face thunderous.

“Kate Argent was a drill sergeant who trained recruits during basic training. You remember Laura mentioned Hunters?” Peter looked at Stiles with a raised eyebrow at the answering half nod the man continued. “Long story short the Argent family are a hunter family. Quite famous in their own way. Infamous is most accurate.” He stared off into the distance for a moment lost in though or perhaps memory. “Because there’s so many of us and almost everyone does an armed forces stint there are werewolf special forces divisions; of course they’re not called that but essentially that’s what they are. Derek was quickly selected and added to one of those teams. Argent was trying to identify those teams for eradication but wasn’t getting anywhere. She started buddying up to Derek.”

“You have to understand he was heartbroken,” Talia added smiling at stiles sadly. “He agreed to start seeing a daughter of an allied pack who was in the same special ops team. Her name was Paige.”

“Was?” There was a heavy sickening feeling settling in the pit of Stiles’ stomach. This story was obviously not going to end well.

Talia nodded an Peter took over the narrative again.

“They became fast friends and could possibly have been more given time. Unfortunately Derek also fell for the trap Kate Argent set: she abused his heartbroken state to befriend him and get into his confidences.” The man sneered teeth lengthening. “She identified the members of his team and what they were quickly: fast enough that on their first covert op she had time to lay a trap set perfectly to kill werewolves.”

“He trusted her: maybe not love but trust and she killed the pack they’d built out of the team that had been thrown together.” Talia had stepped forward and was running a hand over Peter’s head softly carding through his hair as he slumped against the counter. “She had all of them except Derek killed. He lost people he loved, watched them die and had someone he trusted tried to kill him. She died in the attack so he’s had some closure and he’s been to therapy but trust and love are still hard for him to share with anyone outside of the pack. Especially someone who’s broken his heart before; however unintentional it was.”

“We don’t blame you Stiles: we never had and never will you must understand that first.” Talia continued petting the dejected Peter and she smiled at the young man in her kitchen. “We blame her and what she did taking advantage of a unfortunate situation. But Derek was traumatised by that bitch and we didn’t want the chance for the two of you to be happy together to be lost because of what she did.”

“We just wanted Derek to be happy again and he’s happiest when he’s with you,” Peter muttered glancing up. “It’s a pack thing suffering when your pack suffers but it helps to not feel alone.”

“Ok.” Stiles sits quietly tapping a finger against the bench top. Eventually he found the words he felt he needed to say: “I understand what happened and that I might not grasp the depth of the pain and betrayal he felt. I know that trauma can leave behind issues that need to be addressed or at least acknowledged. That’s fine and pretty normal for relationships. However if you think Derek and I getting together is going to fix everything and make him happy then this has all been a huge mistake: I can’t make him happy only he can do that. I can be the one to stand beside him and support him but the choice of his happiness is his own. It’s his choice and so far he hasn’t chosen me.”

“But-“ Stiles held up a hand cutting off Peter’s interruption.

“But I am choosing me. I respect myself too much to settle for anything less than his one hundred percent commitment. He has to not only want this and a relationship with me but also to talk about this kind of stuff with me.”

Talia’s hand froze its stroking and Peter stared at the bounty hunter with a small proud smile. Simultaneously their eyes flickered over his shoulder.

“I can do that,” a deep familiar voice broke the silence from the doorway. There Derek stood shifting uneasily on his feet watching Stiles with a hopeful look in his eye. “If you want to try and you don’t mind the werewolf thing I can do that.”

——

“So we’re really going to talk about all this?” Stiles asks slouching down into the impossibly plush couch; dramatic confessions and admissions aside Stiles was having a hard time mixing stoic detective with a Derek who’ll talk about feelings willingly. The detective stays standing and paces between the couches and the tv. Apparently the Hales are so damn rich they have several theatre rooms with sound proof walls so they can watch movies without bothering everyone else. Also perfect places to hold a private conversation without supernatural ears listening in. “You and me. Talking about everything that’s happened and our relationship. What we expect from it. What we want and what we don’t want?”

Although it looked like it physically pained him Derek nodded his head decisively coming to a stop and seating himself on a low coffee table in front of Stiles so that their eyes are of a height easily meeting across the now small distance.

“And I’m not going to continue carrying the emotional weight here?” Stiles raises an expectant eyebrow gesturing between their two bodies. “Because I’ve got to tell you I’ve got my own shit I deal with and sometimes I’ll need you to help me through it.”

“Yes Stiles,” There was a gentle fondness in the man’s voice now as he reached over and took the bounty hunters hands in his own. “I want us to be partners, equals and I want to tell you everything and I want to trust you with everything.”

“Great,” Stiles sighs pulling Derek closer and resting his head against the other man’s shoulder. “Fantastic. I can’t wait except that I totally can because honestly I’m so exhausted. Your family is full of drama queen werewolves and I still haven’t processed that properly and I’m just a little bit overwhelmed.”

“They can’t hear us in here Stiles you can freak out if you need to,” Derek lifted his hand and stroked gentle fingers down the side other man’s face in a familiar comforting gesture then coughed awkwardly. “Uh now that you know about the werewolf thing I should, uh, tell you something else too.”

He hesitated and Stiles shifted back to stare incredulously at the other man.

“I can’t deal with another dramatic revelation right now Derek just spit it out.” Stiles could feel exhaustion pulling at his bones as the days drama caught up with him.

“It’s just when I touch your face it means something,” he rolled his eyes at the ‘no shit’ look on the bounty hunters face. “It means something to werewolves: it’s where your scent is strongest so touching it spreads my scent there and I sort of staked a claim on you.Every time I touched your face.” The werewolf’s face was slowly turning red through his tanned skin.

“So like a dog pissing on a lamp post you’ve marked me as your territory?” Stiles kept his voice call and even. He wanted to give Derek a chance to explain himself without either laughing at the absurdity or getting pissed at the other man. At Derek’s flat look Stiles held up a placating hand. “Hey after all the shit you’ve put me through I’m allowed dog jokes.”

“I guess so,” Derek huffed shifting forward and slipping onto the couch beside Stiles. “Is this ok?”

“Dude I’ve had your dick in my mouth why wouldn’t this be ok?” Stiles shuffled closer closing the distance between them to rest his head on the other man’s shoulder. “Hey Derek?”

“Yes Stiles?” The werewolf murmured into the bounty hunters hair wrapping his arm around him.

“Will you go out with me?”

“Yes Stiles.”

—-

“Did you join the army or navy? You just don’t seem the type.” Stiles asked Laura as he kicked his feet from the porch swing making room for her to sit. The honest to god porch swing overlooking what seemed to be the social gathering area for all the surrounding homes.

“Nah I got a free pass; Alpha training took priority.” She watched the kids tumbling across the lawn. Apparently it was a everyday occurrence to end up outside to socialise with the pack.

After everything that had happened today Stiles was happy to join in watching the children play. Derek would be taking him home once he’d finished talking to his father. Who Stiles still hasn’t been introduced to.

“So now you’re the alpha?”

“Not exactly?” She hesitated twisting her cup in her hands. “Centuries ago it was passed down when the previous alpha died but with modernisation it’s been more of a retirement thing. So I guess I’m kinda the alpha? Mum said she wants to retire so I think I am? I mean I’mtrying I guess”

The bounty hunter snorted at the hesitant mess of a supposed alpha.

“Do or do not: There is no try.” He quoted to her grinning.

“Did you just Yoda me?” She asked eyes wide.

“Well I think it applies here,” he shrugged before asking again “So are you the alpha?”

The moment was a quiet one and nothing at all dramatic happened: Stiles watched as thoughts and feelings fought for attention and control through Laura’s mind. She was obviously struggling with something but he didn’t know the first thing about the situation so all he could do was sit in the cool evening air and wait for her.

“Yes.” She finally replies staring at the bounty hunter with steely conviction from eyes glowing bright blood red. “I am the Alpha.”

Across the lawn the children stopped playing, the adults watching them turned baring their throats. Obviously this was a private and pivotal moment he’d triggered and he felt awed to be present.

Out of the house Talia comes, smiling with such pride in her eyes at Laura it made Stiles tear up. The woman stopped before the alpha exposing her throat with eyes glowing the bright gold of a beta.

—-


	10. Famous Last Words

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A/N edited due to being misleading to the state of character survival. 
> 
> I am eternally thankful for every single person who has given time to read my fic .

“So you know about werewolves then?”

“What gave it away?”

“Not running and screaming.” Danny Moore didn’t really look strikingly different from high school but the last five or six years had changed him in subtle ways. The main reason was obviously the growling golden eyed five year old sitting in his lap. “Honestly anyone else and I would be surprised but you always were too curious and smart to stay ignorant.”

“You’re probably right.” Stiles smiles awkwardly at Jackson who seemed content to glare at the bounty hunter from his father’s lap. “So what’s your story? Why’re you suddenly willing to talk to me?”

“I wanted to thank you Stilinski. After news of Sam’s death got out and we came out of hiding lots of people have come forward telling me that you were just trying to help.” Danny petted his sons hair idly as he stared off into the distance. “And I was also told you got involved with Greenberg,” Danny hugged Jackson tight and watched Stiles carefully “you don’t want to be involved with Greenberg.”

“Tell me something I don’t know,” Stiles laughed reaching for the glass of water the man had offered him when they sat down to talk. “At least he might leave me alone now it’s all over with.”

“Did you know Sam was their informant? Their lapdog werewolf.” Stiles felt his eyebrows raise incredulously. “Greenberg is a hunter family and a mafia family so Sam decided betraying her own kind was the way to save her own skin.”

The man held his son to his chest tightly; eyes on the bounty hunter.

“The real kicker here is she hated Jackson for being human.” he looked down at his sons furry cheeks and glowing eyes. “He was just so scared of her that his werewolf side was dormant.”

“That sucks,” which really was the underestimation of the century but Stiles didn’t know what he could say in the face of the scowling five year old who had suffered far too much for his short years. “That all really sucks. Are you guys going to be safe now? Is there anything I can do to help?”

“We’re going to be fine. We’ve got Ethan.” The man in question had invited Stiles into his home before retreating further into the house obviously trusting Danny to deal with the bounty hunter alone. Pretty much everyone from school, including the cops he works alongside, couldn’t see past the spastic adhd riddled teenager. But he preferred it that way: easier to be underestimated. Also he’d brought doughnuts and what kind of madman brought doughnuts to attack someone? No one because doughnuts are sacred. “Since we weren’t divorced I’m going to get the settlement for the bar and I’ll sell the old house. We’re all moving the hell out of here.”

“Where will you go?” Stiles couldn’t help but look at the grumpy pre-school werewolf and wonder who in their right mind would want to travel with him. The thought made him momentarily guilty but it quickly passed as the little fangs were bared at him again.

“London.” Danny turned his attention to his son again, poking his cheeks and earning himself a human eyes glare.. “Ethan knows a pack there so we’ll have a new family and we’ll be safe again.”

“Well that’s good I guess.” The bounty hunter shuffled around for a few minutes as Danny watched him with his crooked smile. He didn’t want to open old wounds or talk about the bad side but especially now that Danny would be moving to another country there was something he needed to say while he could; “look Danny I’m sorry.”

The other man looked amused shuffling his son off of his lap. “Jacks go help Ethan pack. Stiles won’t hurt me.” Once the boy was put of sight Danny turned his full attention to Stiles face solemn. “He’s not really out of earshot for a werewolf but he hasn’t got very good control of it so we can talk pretty freely. You have nothing to be sorry for Stiles; you’ve never hurt us and if I asked for help I’m sure you would have done anything you could. It’s not your fault.”

“I should have known,” Stiles explained hands jerking in aborted motions. “I should have found a way to help you or have kept in better contact after school and seen what was happening.”

“Stilinski,” Danny was laughing now at him and wow rude. But Stiles wouldn’t fault him for anything in this conversation. “We weren’t best friends or all that close. We were classmates and I graduated then became a stay at home dad while you ran off and married a stripper in Vegas. We had nothing in common except a shared adolescence; it’s not your fault or my fault or anyone’s fault except Sam’s. And she’s dead now so it’s really no ones fault.” He jerked his head back towards where Jackson ran off to. “Ethan’s helping me deal with it all and I’m putting Jackson in therapy as soon as we settle but I didn’t want anyone to know so there’s no reason to feel guilty that you didn’t.”

“I guess but I still feel pretty shit about it,” Stiles frowned at the man picking up one of the doughnuts he’d brought and shoving it whole into his mouth.

“That’s fine. Feel shit but don’t expect me to make you feel better; I’ve got my own demons to fight.” Danny shrugged grabbing himself a doughnut as well and taking a small normal person sized bite. “Now tell me how the hell you found out about werewolves.”

So he did and they laughed at the crazy mess that had become of their lives. They ate all the doughnuts which earned them a scolding from an angry little werewolf and Stiles left feeling lighter knowing Danny and Jackson were finally safe and will only have better things ahead of them for their new life. 

It was peaceful leaving their neighbourhood lulling Stiles into a retrospective mood. Driving home on autopilot he decided to call it a day and go back to work tomorrow. Really all of the FTAs could wait another day and if he opened the files he could honestly say to Mr lie detector boss that he’d looked into them. He’d already thought up a list of perfect excuses for the werewolf which would play fast and loose with the definition of ‘lie’. He suspected Peter knew what he had planned but that just made the game all the more fun.

Arriving home Stiles yet again thanked his lucky stars that his dad was the best and most amazing dad ever. The sheriff had cleaners go through his apartment yesterday after all of the rabbits had been relocated, had removed all traces of death fruit and had a locksmith fix his apparently pathetically easy to break in through front door. And he’d put a six pack of beer in the fridge which was the most perfect thing a father could do.

—

The array in front of Stiles was enough to make a grown man cry; and because Stiles was in fact a grown man a few tears did manage to slip out. He hastily dashed them away with the back of his hand.

“It’s just so damn beautiful,” he managed to get out although his throat was tight with emotion. “I don’t think I’ve ever seen anything as beautiful as this.”

“Stiles I-“ Scotty puts his hand on Stiles’ shoulder, the familiar weight comforting, while covering his face with the other hand shoulders shaking with suppressed emotion. Whatever he was saying cut off as he too became overwhelmed.

“Guys.” Isaac’s stern voice catches their attention as he crosses his arms frowning from where he stood beside the two other men in the office of Werewolf Bonds side eying the display in front of them. “You bought the damn doughnuts: you can’t be this emotional about baked goods.” He looked incredulously between his two coworkers and the seven dozen sized boxes of doughnuts spread across every available surface in the office. Including his chair. “Actually I think you overdid the doughnuts.”

“Isaac!” The best friend duo gasp in unison while clutching imaginary pearls. They look ridiculous and the secretary werewolf could only shakehis head at their joking.

“Ok then explain to me again why you need over eighty doughnuts.”

“Ah well due to the unfortunate cake incident the other week of which we will not ever discuss again I find myself in need of a new favourite bakery,” Stiles declares dramatically waving a hand across the expanse of baked goods. “And everyone knows that you can’t just taste test for a new bakery any old way. You have to do it properly and under the right conditions.”

“What are the right conditions?” Isaac asks his face already betraying his unease.

“The control,” Stiles points to himself “the variables” he points to Scotty and Isaac with an only slightly sinister look in his eye: he was ecstatic he now had a human variable and a werewolf variable for this the first of many experiments. “As professional doughnut eaters Scotty and I know what we’re after in a favourite bakery so you get to be our tie breaker.”

“And the clipboards?”

“Science!” Scotty declares with a grin. “It makes it a legitimate testing situation and not an excuse to see how many doughnuts we can eat before we get sick.”

Isaac resigns to follow along with the craziness of Scott and Stiles with an exasperated huff which amuses the bounty hunter to no end.

“You can’t front me Scarf boy,” the bounty hunter teased handing over a clipboard. “I know you love us.” Isaac just snorts in reply reaching for his first baked treat with a small private smile.

It’s Scotty who first decides to break the conversation away from doughnuts.

“So Stiles what the fuck is going on with you and Derek?” He doesn’t even look at Stiles before throwing a doughnut at him. “And don’t give me any innocent eyed bullshit excuse: I deserve the truth.”

“It’s complicated?” Stiles tries chewing on sugary baked goodness that he marks down as one point behind the previous sugary baked goodness.

“Not good enough.” Scotty put down the doughnut he was eating and turned to face his brother with a serious expression.

“We’re dating?” Stiles hedged again shoving the rest of his doughnut in his mouth to avoid answering anything else and held out his hand for the next one. Which Scotty didn’t hand over. “Dude doughnut me!”

“Stiles,” Scotty closed the doughnut box raising his eyes to stare defiantly at his brother.

“Ok fine!” The mature and totally not sulking bounty hunter threw his hands up into the air. “He explained about the investigation he’s been doing to nab Greenberg and his branch of that mafia family; how once I stumbled into it wouldn’t be ethical to get involved with me because I was a witness and they were planning to use the bugs to gather evidence and having me know would have put me in danger. That he wanted to but the secrets were holding everything back because he didn’t think it was fair to start something without full disclosure.” Stiles glared balefully at his brother hand still beckoning for a doughnut. “His sister got tired of his drama and set us up to sit down and talk. And in the end we did talk: we decided to give it a proper go with full disclosure and complete honesty.”

He flaps his hand expectantly at his best friend. “Good enough?”

“No,” Scotty pouts handing over a chocolate glazed. “Are you going to get hurt again?”

“Probably.” Stiles shrugs taking a bite. “We are both kinda assholes sometimes but this is our only chance. I’m not letting him repeatedly break my heart again and I also don’t want to break his heart repeatedly.”

“I guess that’s as good as I’ll get,” Scott McCall bestest friend and brother Stiles could ever ask for nods his acceptance and picks up his clipboard again frowning at the numbers. “You know I don’t know if this test will work we may have to repeat the experiment for consistent results.”

“I love the way you think! Let’s narrow our new favourite bakery down to four today! Cut the number in half.”

“You guys are machines,” Isaac mutters from his position sprawled on the floor in the most undignified position Stiles had ever seen the secretary in. “How can you still be eating and thinking of more?”

Stiles laughed and shoved a whole doughnut into his mouth to grin messily at Isaac causing the other man to turn worryingly green around the edges.

It was easy joking and mucking around on the office; tomorrow would come and with it more FTAs to capture and eventually Peter would come through with his specialised training for Stiles to take on the supernatural FTAs. But for now in this moment Stiles was content and happy; he had his job back, a job that he loved, a sexy boyfriend waiting in the wings for him to fall in love with and a whole new world ahead to explore. Life had come to a perfect balance.

—

Seven hours after gorging himself on doughnuts Stiles found himself listlessly wandering the aisles of a corner shop close to his apartment while his stomach protests the idea of food queasily. He might not know exactly how to woo a werewolf but he was planning to start with a home cooked dinner and a movie.

Ok maybe it wasn’t a Hollywood first date but they were in that weird limbo between first date and having been together for months. Technically this would be their first date but they’d done movies together before, they’d done dinner before just never the two together intentionally. Hell they’d even had sex before but something was different when it came to an actual date that might end up between the sheets compared to the fumbling fall into bed that had happened between them.

He really didn't think Derek needed a Hollywood date anyway even if it turned out he’s something from a B grade horror.

Finding himself glaring at minced meat Stiles sighs and grabs the packet. Great now he just needs to decide what he’s making with the beef and he can get the rest of the ingredients, get home to cook the mystery dinner and seduce a damn werewolf with his culinary genius.

Stiles groans in defeat at having to function as an adult instead of going into a six day food coma over the sugar indulgence of that morning. He gathers everything else he’ll need to make meatloaf, the laziest food he can think of and makes his way out of the store.

It’s only three blocks between his apartment and the shop so he takes his spoils of adult life and walks home. Taking out his phone to text Derek to see when the man would be coming over Stiles ducked down a side alley he always used as a shortcut.

Nothing seemed amiss as he walked, spam texting Derek who he now knew to be amused by the excess instead of irritated like most people were. Something about Laura texting with the grammar of a four year old had made the detective very tolerant to texting spam.

The sharp clatter of metal on pavement has Stiles startling, gaze flinching up from his phone to look behind him where the noise came from; the alleyway was empty except for a shadow shifting back and forth at the end that wasn’t there before. A figure steps away from the wall and walks forward towards Stiles who rolls his eyes. It wasn’t far to the end of the alley and a very public street; he’d be safe and have no harm to his groceries in less than a minute.

Glancing back down at his phone the man hits the call button on Derek’s contact just in case and looks up towards the only exit from the usually safe shortcut only to sigh out in frustration: a white van had parked across the end of the alley while he was distracted. Two men stand by the open door staring him down. His footsteps stutter to a stop.

The first man was everything you'd think of stereotype henchman: a large burly man with fuzz covered cheeks and a sour look on his face. The second man looked like the kind of butler kept by old money: clean shaven, thin aristocratic face and the thinly veiled sneer of distaste on his otherwise passive face as he watched the bounty hunter stop a few feet away.

“I don't know how you think this is going to go down boys but I can assure you it’s not going to go well for you.” The bounty hunter slipped his phone into his pocket hoping the detective had picked up the call but not wanting to check and draw attention. “I really don't want to kick your asses while I've got a hot date waiting for me.”

“Get in the van,” the larger man growls low and threatening, head jerking towards the open door.

“You know I don't think I will.” Stiles steps sideways letting his shopping bags slip down his arm so he could place them on the ground out of the way.

“Mr. Greenberg wishes to see you,” the other smaller man says, his voice eerily smooth and expressionless.

“Well honestly I don't give a fuck what Greenberg wants,” Stiles snarls at the men who share an exasperated look before leaping into action together rushing at the bounty hunter.

It’s the smaller man who lands the first hit, his fist smashing into the side of Stiles’ face causing him to stagger back under the onslaught. The larger man reaches in and grabs the bounty hunters shirt to hold him upright as he raises a fist.

Stiles sweeps his leg in, up and out planting a kick directly to his attacker’s solar plexus causing the man to let go gasping for breath.

Not stopping Stiles uses the momentum to step backwards to give himself room to move. Just in time he focuses on the smaller man to see another hit coming for his face, parrying he follows with his elbow trying to connect with his opponent’s face.

The blow doesn’t land as he skips backwards out of range and circling out so that he stands apart from his companion. Stiles steps back as well as the larger man huffs out a breath and stands straight again, the bounty hunter watches as the two share a look of silent communication and braces himself for their next attack.

In unison the two men step forward with a deliberate slow pace. The smaller man nods to the other when the bounty hunter matches their steps with one of his own going backwards. They take another step and he continues to keep the distance.

Derek should be in the area one way or another and he knew where Stiles would be so all he had to do was hold out against the two men and backup would come.

Quickening their pace the two goons rush forward together, Stiles has a second to steal himself for the onslaught raising his own fists to defend himself. Suddenly strong arms wrap around Stiles from behind catching him in a bear hug, immobilising his arms.

The two men in front of him grab his arms on either side stilling his thrashing and eliminating any chance for escape. A hand holding a white cloth comes from behind to cover his face as his head is held still by the large hand of the third forgotten man.

Stiles curses himself for his sloppy stupidity as he loses his grip on consciousness.

—

Stiles comes to throwing himself upright into a sitting position and instantly regrets it.

He lays back down as bile rises in his throat. Opening his eyes only makes he head spin and his stomach recoil so he stays still instead eyes closed and focuses on his breathing.

He’s not sure how long passes until eventually the nausea eases and he’s able to sit up slowly without wanting to throw up everything he’s eaten in the last twelve hours. And since the only thing he’s eaten was doughnuts he’s definitely not willing to risk putting himself off of his favourite treat by a repeat visit.

Taking stock of the situation the man catalogues his surroundings: a plain room with little light, the shapes and shadows of boxes off to one side, no windows and a single door. He’s still in the same clothes by the familiar weight of his jacket however he’s missing his wallet, keys and phone by the lack of weight in the pockets. He would pat them to check if his wrists weren’t zip tied together.

He shuffles himself backwards until he connects with the wall. Using it as support he staggers to his feet head swimming worryingly. The man holds himself upright through sheer force of will breathing deeply until the dizziness passes, which after a moment it does. Eventually Stiles takes a step forward to observe his surroundings and listen with a careful ear: he can’t hear anything or see anything different to what he previously observed.

Bringing his tied wrists up to his mouth Stiles simultaneously curses and praises the ineptitude of his captors. Grabbing the end of the zip tie in his teeth he pulls and tightens the plastic until he can feel it digging painfully into his wrists then tugs it tighter again.

Finally satisfied, the man brings his bound arms up over his head before jerking them down sharply at his waist elbows bent. The plastic of the zip tie breaks with a burning pain and an almost inaudible snap. Stiles rubs his sore wrists to help the blood flow back.

He approaches the door silently knowing whatever is on the other side is going to be the beginning of fighting to get out alive.

Gingerly touching a finger to the doorknob Stiles checks for a booby trap before throwing caution to the wind and flinging the door wide open and stepping out.

“Ah Mr. Stilinski so good of you to join us,” a voice greets him from across what looks to be a storeroom of some sort filled with tables, shelves and boxes towering towards a high ceiling. A figure is seated in front of him in the semi darkness. Indistinguishable except for that cocky self assured voice: Greenberg. “I had begun to think I had received damaged goods.”

“I’m not your ‘goods’ Greenberg,” Stiles snaps out crossing his arms against his chest and leaning back against the wall beside the open doorway. “What do you want from me?”

“Originally I wanted to find that bitch’s child to keep her in check and you were in my way Mr. Stilinski; however I found my own way to show her who was in charge. Unfortunate as it was that the lesson was short lived.” The scoffing laugh made the bounty hunter want to punch the pompous asshole. However he needed to know the score before he started fighting his way out. “Then I found out you were just as bad as her whore husband: fraternising with monsters and dogs Mr. Stilinski makes you no better than that which you sully yourself with. You were a great source of entertainment and I must admit that I am saddened to end our games however I believe you may find this final act to be quite exciting.”

Stiles found himself rolling his eyes at the monologuing. Distracted the man took the time to actually take in his surroundings. It looked like a warehouse now that his eyes had adjusted to the dim lighting; across the room a bulky shadows lined the edges of machinery.

Instead of playing twenty questions with himself the bounty hunter decided to do the smart thing: he interrupted the egomaniac.

“So where exactly are we?” He asks attention once agin back at the seated figure who twitched occasionally but didn't make any other moves towards the bounty hunter.

“You are in a factory that used to make and package guide books for national parks; they went out of business now that everything is digital and people are so much more environmentally conscious,” the voice sneered. “This industrial area is empty at this time of night: theres no one for miles. No one to hear you scream Mr. Stilinski.”

“I can promise you I wont give you the pleasure,” Stiles snarked back, he was getting tired of the big bad villain routine. “You sick sadistic fuck.”

“Oh its not me you should be worried about Mr. Stilinski.” The statement was followed by the click and buzz of old lights struggling to life. As his eyes adjusts to the onslaught the bounty hunter found himself blinking at a unusual sight. Stiles wasn’t sure exactly what was tied to the chair in front of him but he could hazard a guess: glowing blue eyes, thick hair along the sides of his face, raised ridges across his brow and long sharp canine teeth protruding from a gagged mouth. A werewolf shifted to what Derek had called the beta form.

“Since you enjoy spending time with those mutts I thought you might like to get to know my dog here. You see they are crazed wild animals who are ready to tear your throat out at the slightest provocation: in fact the only thing keeping him from killing you is the wolfsbane on those ropes holding him down.”

Stiles stares into the eyes of the person in front of him and could see no trace of the man he must have one been; only a crazed monster remained much as Greenberg described. The werewolf twitched forward in what was obviously a feat of great strength restrained. The movement had Stiles stepping backwards until his back hit the wall again.

“This omega has been under my care for a while now and I’ve gotten all I can from him. I was going to put him down but then I decided: why kill the two of you separately when I can make you kill each other and kill the victor myself?” Greenberg sounded so proud of himself it made the nausea make a reappearance. “But then I had an even better idea: if you can survive and kill the omega I’ll take you on as an apprentice. Once you realise that they’re just mindless monsters pretending to be human I’ll teach you how to put them down. He is however poisoned past the point of saving or sanity so you have the advantage.”

“What makes you think I’ll kill that man for you, you sick fuck?” Stiles growls out low and angry. Like hell he’d agree to going along with Greenberg’s plans.

“Well I can always kill you if you survive, it doesn’t really matter.” The offhand comment was said as if talking about the weather not double homocide. “As for why you’ll kill that dog? If you don't kill him he’ll kill you. I have been testing his resistance to wolfsbane in undetectable amounts over a long period. Interesting study really and very fruitful for our future plans but not something you need worry yourself over.”

“I’ve left a gun on the table in front of it with a single wolfsbane bullet. You get one shot: put him down while he’s defenceless or wait until the timer runs out and he gets released to hunt you through the building.” Stiles shudders at the thought of being hunted down by a supernatural creature. “Go ahead collect the gunand make your choice. You have a little more than a minute remaining to decide before the decision is made for you.”

Stiles looks around easily spotting several security cameras the looked a lot newer than anything else he could see. So he was being watched and in all likelihood recorded. Good. Evidence he might be able to use against Greenberg if the man managed to escape.

—-

After wasting precious seconds to observe his surroundings Stiles steps forward up to the table separating him and the crazed werewolf.

“Hey anybody in there?” He whispers eyes trained on the werewolf’s glowing orbs. There’s no flicker of recognition or intelligence. Waving a hand in front of the man’s face Stiles watches as he moves stiffly against his restraints to track the movement. “Ok so poisoned to insanity is a thing here. Wonderful.”

Focusing on the table in front of him the bounty hunter picks up the old smith and Wesson pistol checking the chamber for the promised bullet. The dull golden glow of the bullet shines back. One bullet; he can’t tell if it’s the promised wolfsbane or not. Hell he doesn’t even know if wolfsbane is real. Shit he should have asked Derek about this stuff. If he makes it out alive they’re going to sit down for werewolf 101. Or on second thought Peter probably has a library full of this information.

He holds the gun feeling the heavy weight of it in his hand, it’s the weight of a human life. Perhaps not technically a human life but if anything his time with the Hale pack has taught him it's that there’s no difference.

“I’m really sorry,” Stiles says looking the werewolf in the eye hoping something would be getting through. “I don’t want to kill you but I sure as hell don’t want to die.”

“This is bullshit,” Stiles mutters to himself. What the hell am I supposed to do? I don’t know shit about wolfsbane, insane werewolves or bloody hunters. The basics didn’t cover this crap! And now what am I supposed to do? Kill a man to survive as entertainment for this asshole? He’s still a man even if he’s acting like a monster. What am I supposed to do?

Unfortunately Stiles didn’t have time for ethical dilemmas: shoot the werewolf now and be done with it or run and try to survive.

There’s a chance Derek knows what happened or is at least looking for him but he doesn’t know where he is or even how long it’s been. There’s no telling when or even if rescue will come.

He’s on his own.

Stiles tucks the gun into the back waistband of his jeans praying it doesn’t go off and shoot him in the butt. He’s not super excited to have an unfamiliar weapon so close to his behind but it’s a much preferable option than putting it in the front of his pants. Yikes.

“Hey Greenberg what’s stopping me from walking out the front door?”

“There is a mountain ash barrier around the building; no one gets in or out. And if that doesn’t stop you,” there was a slightly distorted chuckle sounding across the speakers. “Then my men have orders to shoot you if you get too close.”

“Fuck.”

—-

Running is something you do for misguided health kicks and when the only other option is death. Which since those were apparently the same thing meant the only reason to run is to prolong your life. Which is a good thing. At least that is what the bounty hunter keeps telling himself as he jogs up the emergency stairwell creating a symphony of harsh breaths, pounding feet and distant growling.

He’s not sure how long he’s been running and fighting for his life through the maze of a warehouse. He’s accumulated several bruises and grazes from taking hits, an electrical burn from the misguided use of a light fixture and a strong hatred for Greenberg. Stiles had thought he couldn’t hate anyone more than he hated Greenberg after the whole spider incident but he had been so wrong. Being hunted through a badly lit warehouse half full of old crap by an injured and crazed supernatural creature has taught Stiles all new levels of loathing.

His plan this time was simple: get to the roof and get himself out of this alive. As far as plans go it is pretty simple and extremely flawed however after going toe to toe with a severely weakened werewolf Stiles knows he has no chance to stop and plan properly. He needs to keep moving, avoiding and distracting while relying on luck.

Finally after going up four flights of stairs and testing the limits of what he is willing to do to survive the bounty hunter finds himself coming to the end of the stairwell and the door to the rooftop.

Stopping and panting softly the bounty hunter presses an ear to the door and grins in triumph at the muted sound of a man angrily yelling in a familiar voice.

Bingo.

—

Earlier:

Knowing he couldn’t kill the werewolf in cold blood and would have to find a way out alive while the insane creature was loose in the building was one thing. Loving the reality was another.

One moment Stiles was getting high handed commentary from Greenberg send the next a beeping sound comes from the werewolf who begins to immediately struggle against his bonds.

“Run little bounty hunter run!” Greenbergs cheerful voice sing-songs from the hidden speakers. “The monster is being let loose!”

Stiles wastes no time in running, at first flat out down one corridor then the next with no thought for direction, then slower as he realises he has no idea what he's doing or whee he’s going. He needs to plan. He needs a weapon.

He needs help.

Not stopping but now moving forward with purpose the man catalouges areas as he passes them: predominantly empty rooms with nothing to offer, long corridors and hallways crossing paths back and forwards in a confusing tangle that he cuts directly through and what appears to be a room full of machinery.

Skirting around the shadowed machinery the man narrows his focus onto a small red and white box built into the wall: a first aid cabinet. Fingers shifting through the contents greedily he swiftly pockets a few choice pieces before moving on ever conscious of the crazed werewolf somewhere in the building with him.

As he’s moving between empty rooms keeping an eye out for anything useful and an ear our for any stray sounds Stiles moves his new choice finds to different pockets on his person for easier access: the tape and bandages go into one back pocket, the tweezers into his jacket pocket with the small scissors. Held at the ready is what he can already tell will be extremely useful against his enhanced opponent: a squirt bottle of rubbing alcohol for disinfecting wounds.

“This is all very exciting isn't it Mr. Stilinski?” Greenbergs grating voice come out of nowhere startling the bounty hunter into almost dropping his weapons. He’d forgotten that he might be being watched but now he looks around an immediately spots the brand new and completely out of place camera at the next intersection of hallways.

Grabbing the ornate iron base of a shadeless lamp up from a pile of forgotten junk on the floor Stiles takes quick steps towards the camera, aims carefully and swings the hunk of metal like a baseball bat at the camera smashing the plastic housing off of its wall mount. Pieces of camera housing and lens’ rain down satisfactorily.

“Mr. Stilinski!” The scandalised voice practically squeals his name in outraged anger. “Do you have any idea how expensive those things are? You will stop that at once!”

“Unlikely.” Stiles snorts to himself spotting another bright white camera a dozen meters ahead. Hefting the lamp base in his and the man moves ahead in a stilted jogging pace to repeat the action.

He laughs in satisfaction at the huffing growling noises Greenberg makes before he remembers to be wary of such noises. He looks around carefully focusing on every sound and scuff until... there in the distance he can hear a metallic banging and crashing sound: the werewolf hadn’t managed to find him in his distracted state.

“That’s it if you keep that up I’m going to have to send one of my men down to teach you a lesson Mr. Stilinski, if it makes it easier for that creature to capture you then so be it.”

The bounty hunter rolls his eyes at the overdramatic hunter: he already has Stiles trapped in a building with a crazed werewolf what was the point in threatening him? Something Greenberg has said niggles for attention that Stiles just cant give it immediately as he continues on his way destroying every camera he crosses paths with.

—

Time passes too quickly when Stiles finds himself back in the machinery room but on the opposite side from his last visit. The deep shadows, half light and abstract shapes make the cavernous room perfect for an ambush. The bounty hunter arms himself with the squirt bottle in one hand and the scissors in the other as he creeps into the doorway leading into the room shoulders tense.

He’d tried to keep an ear on the sounds the werewolf made but as time passed peacefully he’d lost the adrenaline fuelled desperate edge to his actions allowing him to become unfocused and easily distracted yet again. Having fun destroying the cameras and almost giggling over Greenberg’s ranting rage had put him into higher spirits; at least he is gonna have fun if he’s gonna die here.

Looking around the bounty hunter has to admit, if only to himself, that he isn’t prepared to face anyone in the semi darkness let alone a crazed apex predator. The unfamiliar and disjointed bulk of the abandoned machinery make for forbidding shapes in the darkness; each could be hiding an enemy.

Easing forward as his eyes adjust to the dim lighting Stiles crouches down next to a tarp covered shape hoping that the werewolf or Greenberg’s goon hadn’t heard the echoing steps. Which was probably futile considering every movement against the concrete floor caused a noise in retaliation.

A sudden crash in the middle distance causes the man to jump banging his shoulder painfully against something solid under the tarp. Cursing as quietly as possible the bounty hunter grits his teeth and tries to ignore the embarrassment and pain.

—-

Present:

Get onto the roof and get out alive.

That’s the mantra running through the bounty hunters head as he glances back the way he came down the stairwell. Several floors below he can see the hulking assimilation of a man progressing upward. He has to time this as much as he can: he doesn’t have time to plan but he knows he’ll only have one chance to surprise Greenberg.

“C’mon big bad wolf,” he mutters encouragement to the werewolf under his breath knowing the man would without a doubt hear him; it was if he understood that was in question. “A few more floors and you can chew on the last hunter douche.”

He hears a deep rumbling growl in reply and hopes it’s also in agreement.

—-

Earlier:

The further Stiles moves through the cavernous room the louder each and every noise echoes through the area. This is probably the only thing that saved him when a scuffing noise on the other side of what he assumed to be covered benches had the bounty hunter freezing in his tracks.

Hand covering his mouth to stifle any rouge sounds the bounty hunter listens avidly for several furious heartbeats as he tried to locate the source of the sound.

There. The soft rasp of movement against the concrete floor behind him.

Heart pounding in a way he fears is audible to supernatural hearing the bounty hunter raises himself slightly from the half crouch he was using to keep out of sight. Twisting his neck painfully Stiles chances a glance over the top of the bench he was using to hide his progress through the room. Ducking back he mouths ‘fuck’ before going for a second look: standing on the other side of the bench in plain sight was the smaller man from earlier holding a gun while obviously searching the room with a pissed off expression.

Fuckfuckfuck, Stiles thinks desperately to himself as he carefully lowers himself again so as not to be seen. Unarmed his best chance against the other man was to surprise him.

Psyching himself up the bounty hunter happened to glance up along his side of the benches straight into the glowing blue eyes of the werewolf.

Still a couple of yards away the werewolf was moving forwards on all fours in an awkward animalistic shuffle. Somehow managing to make no sound as his four limbs propel him slowly forward. Stiles licks his dry lips in terror as the glowing eyes stare straight into his soul and the sharpened teeth are exposed in a gruesome facsimile of a smile.

Shuddering in absolute horror at his approaching death Stiles does the only thing his body seems capable of: he flees for his life.

Maintaining eye contact the bounty hunter lifts the tarp covering the bench beside him; half glancing at the clear area he shuffles sideways ducking under the tarp then immediately out the other side. The hunter isn’t looking in his direction, seemingly distracted, as he thanks every god listening and repeats the motion to duck under the next covered counter to escape.

Covering his mouth a again as tears spill down his cheeks the man manages to cover his half scream of terror as a deafening roar sounds from the aisle behind him followed by the deafening echoing explosion of gunshots.

Stiles can hear the mixed low growling from the werewolf and the desperate swearing of the hunter fade into the background as he shoves himself forward and sprints from the room not daring to look back until he’s at the far doorway: what he sees will haunt him to his grave be it in this building or in years to come.

The werewolf sits half crouched above the hunters body, muzzle dripping blood to splatter on the floor as he exhales in a huffing low laugh. The glowing blue eyes look up from the victory meal to meet the escaping bounty hunters with an intelligent glimmer of pride.

Fuck.

—-

“Haven’t you been fucking a werewolf? Is this really the first time you’ve realised they’re just monsters? Monsters!” Stiles gets several rooms and locked doors away from the grizzly scene before he allows himself to listen to the vitriol spewing from the speakers. “You realise now don’t you? They are nothing but animals covered in human skin. Filthy beasts!”

That’s what you’ve let into your bed Stilinski; a monster who will tear your throat out with its teeth!”

Vomit splatters against the linoleum floor as Stiles empties his stomach at the reminder of what he’d just witnessed.

“No.” He whispers hoarsely: white bone and glistening sinew dancing across his vision. “You did that.” He wipes the back of his hand against his mouth grimacing. “You’re a monster.”

Looking around finally registering his surroundings Stiles goes to the nearest camera; standing in front of it he knows he probably looks deranged, like the monster Greenberg’s accusing Derek of being, but he just smiles. It’s not a nice smile but he smiles staring deep into the lens as one hand lifts up behind the device and yanks the wires free disabling it.

—-

Yet again the bounty hunter finds himself not expecting the third assailant. Grappling with the larger man from the alleyway on stained carpet, desperately trying to take the man’s gun Stiles isn’t prepared when a boot comes from out of nowhere to his left, smacking against his ribs and sending him fair across the room. His body smacks against the brick wall with a solid crack coming to an abrupt and sudden halt. His breath is stolen in a thin whistling exhale and pain stabs the right side of his chest when he tries to give oxygen to his exhausted body.

Hauling himself to his feet the bounty hunter spits blood onto the carpet from a busted lip he must have gotten while wrestling the larger man. The room they're in would have once been a conference room: long and thin with a wall of windows overlooking a hallway behind the two hunters one of which was smashed allowing the third man entrance and a single doorway further behind Stiles. A shadow flickered behind the two men.

“Goddammit you assholes.” He hisses out resting a hand gingerly over his right side hoping the pain isn’t from broken bones but something less likely to kill him like cracked ribs. His head spins either from the impact or lack of oxygen; at this point all he knows is he’s at a disadvantage against two hunters. “Don’t you know any other dirty tricks or do you just really enjoy uneven odds?” He has to play to his strengths but the only thing left to him now is his mouth and the ability to piss anyone off enough to lose their better judgment. “Don’t you know how to fight man to man?” He glared are the third assailant a dark haired man with brooding features. “Or is it just that this one always needs to be saved?” He sneered at the larger man causing an instant reaction.

The larger thug gets shakily to his feet, mimicking the bounty hunters position across the room, with a snarl he pats the third man’s shoulder telling him to stay back wordlessly; he immediately threw himself forward at Stiles fist raised and face twisted. The bounty hunter had less than a second to make a decision, figure out a plan and since his brain wasn’t quite focused enough to remember how to breath let alone fight he let go and reacted on instincts alone. As the larger man hurtled towards him Stiles ducked the wide swing of his arm, causing the hunter to hit the brick wall and instead launched himself at the unprepared third hunter returning the favour of a kick to the ribs throwing him back straight into the waiting jaws of the werewolf.

Claws pierce skin causing blood to spray in a dark arc and a hideous desperate shriek gurgles past the man’s lips as the hunters already vacant stare burrows into the very soul of the man who had delivered him to death.

Barely breathing and running on adrenaline Stiles begins to backtrack towards the door and only safe exit. The last hunter alive stares in dazed shock clutching his head absentmindedly. Seeing the abandoned and until now forgotten gun laying innocently next to the door the bounty hunter stoops to pick it up weighing the cool metal against his hot palm.

“No one will ever know,” he whispers to himself as he walks backwards towards the open door. Skittering thoughts of his dad, Scott and Derek flash across his mind along with the desperate realisation that he would do anything at this point to live. To get out of this cursed warehouse alive. “No one will ever know.”

The last hunter seems to realise he’s standing alone and unarmed just as Stiles raises the gun to take aim. The man’s eyes widen and his mouth pressed closed in a thin tight line as the background music of snapping bone and tearing flesh silences. Stiles looks past the hunter to the supposedly crazed werewolf who is smirking at him with knowing eyes; the body he’s holding drops and the werewolf raises into a half crouch. At his nod the sheriffs son pulls the trigger sentencing the hunter to a painful death.

As soon as he feels the recoil from the gun and hears the grunt of pain Stiles steps backwards finally exiting the room to slam the flimsy office door shut. A body smacks against the other side followed by the sound of struggling, begging and low animal growls.

—-

If his hunch is right, and usually Stiles can trust his instincts before anything else, then the only place Greenberg could be hiding is on the roof. He’d sent his goons ‘down’ and it only took moments for them to arrive into the fray, the closed circuit cctv system would have to be accessed in-house and the arrogant bastard would of course have a god complex and want to stand above the battleground he created.

He follows the dimly lit hallway, now on the ground floor until he finds the glowing green sign he was searching for: emergency stairwell.

Crashing could be heard from the office he ran away from only minutes ago that seemed an eternity. An enraged howl echoes through the hallways causing the bounty hunter to shiver in a primal reaction of terror: if he was wrong and Greenberg wasn’t at the end of this rainbow he could very likely be trapping himself with a insane supernatural creature he’d just fed two men to.

One way or another this horrible, exhausting and downright scarring day was about to be over.

“C’mon big bad.” He calls back down the direction he’d come from hoping to lure the predator after him. “I know I’m a snack but let’s get you something to really sink your teeth into.”

Stiles Stilinski, bounty hunter, doughnut eater and sheriff’s son pushes open the stairwell door and begins trotting up the stairs; leading a mythical creature to use as a deadly weapon against an arrogant asshole hoping his dad doesn’t arrest for use of dangerous werewolf.

—-

Now:

Timing is everything. The werewolf had started to move in great loping steps quickly progressing up the intervening floors until he was at the base of the last flight of stairs. Stiles looked down at the almost human eyes glowing in the dim light and feels sick satisfaction in the knowledge that he was going to get out of this alive if he can manage the next few minutes.

The werewolf tenses head cocked as if listening and huffs out a low stuttering growl. Laughter, stiles realises with a start. The werewolf was amused by whatever Greenberg was saying on the other side of the door. Heart pounding Stiles does the only thing he can think of, the only avenue left to him:

He moves fast slamming open the door following the outbound movement with hurried footsteps to hide behind the metal door before Greenberg has a chance to react.

“What the fu-“ and react he did. It was only training and paranoia that had the hunters gun up and pointed at Stiles as the bounty hunter threw himself behind the open door. Which gave the hunter an advantage when the werewolf followed the other man out making straight for his enemy face contorted in a twisted snarl exposing sharp teeth still stained with blood.

Greenberg gets a shot off as stiles hides himself behind the door twitching in anxiety to know what is going on. The bounty hunter forces his attention away from the confrontation behind the door and instead looks out at the rooftop he’s found himself on: all grey concrete, aircon vents and cabling. Eyes flickering back and forth across the empty landscape Stiles searches desperately for an avenue of escape.

He’s distracted momentarily by another gunshot followed by a pained whimper leading into an angry snarl. But he can’t let himself focus on what is happening between the hunter and the werewolf: he has to focus on his own survival. He already knew he wouldn’t be able to save the werewolf even if he’d be able to get close enough: he could only survive.

Driven by adrenaline the bounty hunter steps out of his safer hiding place to get a better look at the buildings ledge. Out of the corner of his eye he spots movement: Greenberg and the werewolf are wrestling on the ground. The hunter has a knee to the werewolf’s chest and both the beasts writs in his own tight grip holding the enraged creature off. Stiles knew that if the werewolf hadn’t been poisoned the wrestling match would have been over in seconds. As it was he wouldn’t last much longer: stiles has to find a way out.

Suddenly he spies a worn down sign for the fire escape and can taste freedom. A desperate sound forces it’s way out of his throat as he stumbles his way over looking down the worn and rust filled structure like it’s the most beautiful thing he’s ever seen. He quickly clambers over the edge of the building to the first platform, looking back he can see Greenberg has flipped the werewolf over onto his back and has him pinned with one hand while he punches the dazed creatures face repeatedly with maniacal laughter.

It wasn’t the kind of last stand a hero would have abandoning another to death so he could survive but Stiles is painfully aware he isn’t anything like a hero. He’s a bounty hunter, a selfish person who just wants to live. But he’s also vindictive: he pulls the large hunters gun out of his waistband where he’d stashed and forgotten about it. Taking careful aim and pulling the trigger as he exhales the bullet hits it’s mark, piercing into Greenberg’s shoulder on the upswing.

Blood pours from the wound as the hunter recoils in agony at the sudden impact. The werewolf bucks up dislodging the hunter with a ragged howl going on the attack. Stiles doesn’t stick around to watch the fallout of his evening the playing field between werewolf and hunter, instead he starts a rapid descent down the fire escape barely noticing the tightness of his breathes or the aching in his hands and feet until he hits the gravel of the car park and has to steal himself to move, to get away and under cover before whoever wins the fight decides he’s next.

Looking up to find somewhere safe to collapse Stiles stops suddenly, almost falling over at the sudden action, to stare at the shocked faces of a dozen familiar faces of the Hale pack mobilising in the parking lot. Derek standing at the forefront stares incredulously at his boyfriend, injured but safe.

“You escaped?” Peter Hale saunters you to stand beside his nephew.

“What?” Stiles asks cocking his head to the side thinking back to shadowed rooms, hunter goons, crazed werewolves and the sound of tearing flesh that would haunt him forever. “Like it’s hard?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for reading this story, thank you for every comment and thank you for every kudos. This is the biggest and least trashy story I’ve ever finished even if by the end I just wanted to be done. 
> 
> I just want to say I’m not happy with the ending but it’s been a month and I’m not getting anything better; at least I don’t hate it.


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